"Do you think--do you dare to think--that I would have passed your door if I had supposed that another woman had been here before me, and had been turned out to make room for me, and would have stayed here--here in your room--if you had not sent her away?
If I had thought that, I would have left you at your door forever.

I would have gone back to my father.

I would have gone to Las Huelgas to-morrow, and not to be a prisoner, but to live and die there in the only life fit for a broken-hearted woman.

Oh, no! You dare not think that,--you who would dare anything! If you thought that, you could not love me as I love you,--believing, trusting, staking life and soul on your truth and faith!" The generous spirit had risen in her eyes, roused not against him, but by all his question might be made to mean; and as she met his look of grateful gladness her anger broke away, and left only perfect love and trust behind it.
"A man would die for you, and wish he might die twice," he answered, standing upright, as if a weight had been taken from him and he were free to breathe.
She looked up at the pale, strong features of the young fighter, who was so great and glorious almost before the down had thickened on his lip; and she saw something almost above nature in his face,--something high and angelic, yet manly and well fitted to face earthly battles.

He was her sun, her young god, her perfect image of perfection, the very source of her trust.