s. And when you come back in
a few days, bring Eileen. My Jeanne will love her."

And Jeanne, looking from Philip's face, saw Gregson, for the first
time, as he passed through the door.

XXIV

Both Philip and Jeanne were silent for some moments after Gregson had
gone; their only movement was the gentle stroking of Philip's hand over
the girl's soft hair. Their hearts were full, too full for speech. And
yet he knew that upon his strength depended everything now. The
revelations of Gregson, which virtually ended the fight against him
personally, were but trivial in his thoughts compared with the ordeal
which was ahead of Jeanne. Both Pierre and her father were dead, and,
with the exception of Jeanne, no one but he knew of the secret that had
died with them. He could feel against him the throbbing of the storm
that was passing in the girl's heart, and in answer to it he said
nothing in words, but held her to him with a gentleness that lifted her
face, quiet and beautiful, so that her eyes looked steadily and
questioningly into his own.

"You love me," she said, simply, and yet with a calmness that sent a
curious thrill through him.

"Beyond all else in the world," he replied.

She still looked at him, without speaking, as though through his eyes
she was searching to the bottom of his soul.

"And you know," she whispered, after a moment.

He drew her so close she could not move, and crushed his face down
against her own.

"Jeanne--Jeanne--everything is as it should be," he said. "I am glad
that you were found out in the snows. I am glad that the woman in the
picture was your mother. I would have nothing different than it is, for
if things were different you would not be the Jeanne that I know, and I
would not love you so. You have suffered, sweetheart. And I, too, have
had my share of sorrow. God has brought us together, and all is right
in the end. Jeanne--my sweet Jeanne--"

Gregson had left the outer door slightly ajar. A gust of wind opened it
wider. Through it there came now a sound that interrupted the words on
Philip's lips, and sent a sudden quiver through Jeanne. In an instant
both recognized the sound. It was the firing of rifles, the shots
coming to them faintly from far beyond the mountain at the end of the
lake. Moved by the same impulse, they ran to the door, hand in hand.

"It is Sachigo!" panted Jeanne. She could hardly speak. She seemed to
struggle to get breath, "I had forgotten. They