, her loving heart as true to him as his was to
her, was happiness sweeter than any he had once dreamed could be his.

The time had flown by on golden wings. He scarce knew how to reckon its
flight. He and Joan lived in a world of their own -- a world that
reckons not time by our calendar, but has its own fashion of
computation; and hours that once had crept by leaden footed, now flew
past as if on wings. He and his love were together at last, soon to be
united in a bond that only death could sunder. And neither of them held
that it could be broken even by the stern cold hand of death. Such love
as theirs was not for time alone; it would last on and on through the
boundless cycles of eternity.

And now the holy vows had been spoken. At last the solemn ceremony was
over and past. Raymond and Joan were man and wife, and were riding side
by side through the whispering wood in the direction of Basildene.

Joan had not changed much since the day she and Raymond had plighted
their troth beside the dying bed of John de Brocas. As a young girl she
had looked older than her years; as a woman she looked scarce more.
Perhaps in those great dark eyes there was more of softness; weary
waiting had not dimmed their brightness, but had imparted just a touch
of wistfulness, which gave to them an added charm. The full, curved lips
were calmly resolute as of old, yet touched with a new sweetness and the
gracious beauty of a great happiness.

Raymond had changed more than she, having developed from the youth into
the man; retaining in a wonderful way the peculiar charm of his
boyhood's beauty, the ethereal purity of expression and slim grace of
figure, yet adding to these the dignity and purpose of a more advanced
age, and all the stateliness and power of one who has struggled and
suffered and battled in the world, and who has come forth from that
struggle with a stainless shield, and a name unsullied by the smallest
breath of slander.

Joan's eyes dwelt upon her husband's face with a proud, joyous light in
them. Once she laid her hand upon his as they rode, and said, in low
tones very full of feeling:

"Methinks I have found my Galahad at last. Methinks that thou hast found
a treasure as precious as the Holy Grail itself. Methinks no treasure
could be more precious than that which thou hast won."

He turned his eyes upon her tenderly.

"The treasure of thy love, my Joan?"

"I was not thinking of that," she answered; "we have lov