But he held her close and strong, whispering words of honest love and passion, and when she sobbed⁠—“Not that⁠—not that⁠—I have promised! You must⁠—you must know⁠—I am⁠—not⁠—worthy⁠—” In the purity of his own heart her words were, to him, meaningless then, meaningless forever after. Presently her voice ceased, and her head rested on his breast. He leaned against the window, his ears swept by the furious wind, his heart in a joyous tumult. The forest was passed, and the sun slipped from behind the trees, flooding the earth again with brightness. She raised her eyes and looked out into the world from the window. Then she began to speak, but her voice was faint, and he bent his head close to hers and listened. “I cannot turn from you; I am too weak. You were long ago my master⁠—master of my heart and soul. I have broken my word to one who trusted me, but I have told you all;⁠—what matters the rest?” He smiled at her innocence and she worshipped his. She spoke again: “Take me or cast me away;⁠—what matters it? Now with a word you can kill me, and it might be easier to die than to look upon happiness as great as mine.”