Page:The silent prince - a story of the Netherlands (IA cu31924008716957).pdf/248

 The young officer now knocked at the door, and begged permission to see Mademoiselle La Tour a few moments, if she were able to grant him a brief interview.

“Allow my friend to come in, please,” said Katharine, a soft flush creeping into her pale cheeks.

“Mademoiselle La Tour—Katharine,” said the young officer, advancing and holding out his hand. If ever honest, faithful love was reflected in a man’s eyes, it shone in his at this moment. Katharine was conscious of no feeling either of surprise or embarrassment at the sight of her friend. An unutterable sense of peace and security came over her.

“Katharine,” continued Reynold Van Straalen, “I have loved you always, love you now as a man loves but one woman in his life. Will you give me the right the protect you from your enemies?”

And Katharine La Tour listened well pleased to this oft-told tale, old as humanity, everlasting as the hills, changeless as the ocean. The look with which she laid her hand in his firm clasp was beautiful in its humility and trustful love.

“My noble friend, can you forgive me for having rejected in days past your protection and your love, and for trying to stifle my heart’s affections in yonder convent?”

“Say no more, my love. There is naught to for-