ates, hurried steps upon the stairs, and a voice crying urgently
through the bars.

But he could not stay to listen. He was too far away to hear. The voice
was to him but like the thin harsh cry of the sea-mew wheeling near,
blended in with the marvel of his freedom. He took no heed of it. He was
afloat on the great sea-faring tide. Far away before him, but nearer,
nearer, and yet nearer, the sea gleamed in trembling ecstasy.

* * * * *

"He does not know me. He does not hear me," said Wentworth, on his knees
beside Michael, raising a wild, desperate face to Magdalen. Was
Michael's last look of deadly hatred to remain with him through life?

"Speak to him again, Fay," said Magdalen. "Tell him Wentworth is here."

Fay was still kneeling on the other side. The two lovers' eyes met
across the man they had murdered.

"Michael," the tremulous voice whispered.

"Louder," said Wentworth hoarsely.

"Michael," said Fay again.

But Michael's face was set. He was sunk in a great rest, breathing deep
and slow, deeper and slower yet, his long arms faintly rising and
falling with each breath.

"Oh, Fay. For God's sake make him hear," said Wentworth with a cry.

The Bishop and Magdalen standing apart looked at each other.

"He has forgiven her, though he does not know it," he said below his
breath.

Fay stooped down. She raised Michael in her arms, and laid his head on
her breast, turning his fading face to his brother.

"Michael," she whispered into his ear, with a passion which would have
cloven death itself. "Come back, come back and say one word to
Wentworth."

* * * * *

Very near the sea now. Very near the great peace and light. This was the
real life at last. All the rest had been a vain shadow, a prison where
he had dwelt a little while, not seeing that this great all-surrounding
water, which had seemed to hem him in, was but a highway of light.

Who were these two with him in the boat? Who but the two he loved best!
Who but Fay and Wentworth! They were all floating on together in
exceeding joy. They were very near him. He felt them one on each side,
but the light was so great that he could not see them. His head was on
Fay's breast. His hand was in Wentworth's hand. It was all as in dim
dreams he had longed for it to be.

Fay's voice reached him, pressed close to his ear, like the sound of the
sea, held in its tiniest shell.

He opened his e