"Art thou still minded to set these poor pale flowers against the
roses in love's garden? For I love thee," she added, and then
suddenly she was still.
Hilarius looked from the dead flowers to the woman in her over-
mastering beauty, and all at once the passion that lies hid in the
heart of every man leapt to his lips. He desired this woman as he
had never before desired aught in all the world, and he knew, to
his shame, that she was his for the asking. The blood thudded and
rang in his veins; he feasted his eyes on the curve of her neck and
the radiance of her sun-swept hair. He stretched out his hands,
but ere he could speak she raised a white, terrified face, and
glanced over her shoulder.
"Who touched me?" she gasped, her voice shrill with fear, "who
touched me?" And she sprang to her feet.
There was no one: the two shared a common pallor as they stared
into each other's eyes across the dying lilies. Hilarius shrank
back and covered his face with his hands. Clear and distinct he
heard the Prior's voice: "A light woman--a light woman.
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