rs would fall. Crumbling with the
flesh, they would fall and set her naked spirit free to seek its other
self. And then, having found her love, what more was there to seek? What
other answer did she desire to all the problems of her life than this of
Unity attained at last--Unity attained in Death!

And if he did not love her, how could he answer her? Surely that message
could not pass except along the golden chord of love, which ever makes
its sweetest music when Pain strikes it with a hand of fear.

The troubled glory passed--it throbbed itself away; the spiritual gusts
of thought grew continually fainter, till, like the echoes of a
dying harp, like the breath of a falling gale, they slowly sank to
nothingness. Then wearied with an extreme of wild emotion Beatrice
sought her bed again and presently was lost in sleep.

When Geoffrey woke on the next morning, after a little reflection, he
came to the decision that he had experienced a very curious and moving
dream, consequent on the exciting events of the previous day, or on the
pain of his impending departure. He rose, packed his bag--everything
else was ready--and went in to breakfast. Beatrice did not appear till
it was half over. She looked very pale, and said that she had been
packing Effie's things. Geoffrey noticed that she barely touched his
fingers when he rose to shake hands with her, and that she studiously
avoided his glance. Then he began to wonder if she also had strangely
dreamed.

Next came the bustle of departure. Effie was despatched in the fly
with the luggage and Betty, the fat Welsh servant, to look after her.
Beatrice and Geoffrey were to walk to the station.

"Time for you to be going, Mr. Bingham," said Mr. Granger. "There,
good-bye, good-bye! God bless you! Never had such charming lodgers
before. Hope you will come back again, I'm sure. By the way, they are
certain to summon you as a witness at the trial of that villain Jones."

"Good-bye, Mr. Granger," Geoffrey answered; "you must come and see me in
town. A change will do you good."

"Well, perhaps I may. I have not had a change for twenty-five years.
Never could afford it. Aren't you going to say good-bye to Elizabeth?"

"Good-bye, Miss Granger," said Geoffrey politely. "Many thanks for all
your kindness. I hope we shall meet again."

"Do you?" answered Elizabeth; "so do I. I am sure that we shall meet
again, and I am sure that I shall be glad to see you when we do, Mr.
Bingham,"