Her lips moved in a low prayer--her timid soul
turned to God with its fears.
"O God, my God!" murmured she, "stand by me. Take from me the sinful
thoughts that fill my heart. Make me to love my husband. Keep my
soul free from shame and sin."
Hasty steps, loud, merry voices from the hall, disturbed her dreams.
She left her retreat, meeting everywhere gay smiles and joyous
faces. At the door stood the prince her husband. He advanced eagerly
to her side, and ignoring etiquette and the gay assemblage alike he
pressed the princess to his heart and kissed her on both cheeks.
Wilhelmina drew from him in deadly terror, and a burning anger
filled her heart. Had she loved the prince, this public
demonstration of his tenderness would perhaps have pleased and
surely been forgiven by her. As it was, she took his embrace and
kisses as an insult, which was only to be endured by compulsion--for
which she would surely revenge herself.
Prince Henry was so joyous, so happy at meeting his wife once more,
that he did not notice her embarrassed silence, her stiff
haughtiness, and thought she shared his joy, his delight.
This confidence seemed to the princess presumptuous and humiliating.
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