She had not told him in so many words that her heart was still his, though she had promised her hand to the Basle merchant.
But he could not doubt that it was so.

As he stood there silent, with that dark look upon his brow which he had inherited from his father, and that angry fire in his eye, his heart was in truth once more becoming soft and tender towards her.

He was beginning to understand how it had been with her.

He had told her, just now, that he did not believe her, when she assured him that she had thought that she was forgotten.

Now he did believe her.