.

They stood alone, except for each other, in this still, radiant beauty
of all things.

Miss Henderson's window was around a projection of the rambling,
irregular structure, which made the angle wherein the pleasant old
doorstone lay.

"May I have your dream, Miss Faith?"

She need not be afraid to tell a simple dream. Any more, at this moment,
than when she told it to Glory, that morning, on that very spot. Why did
she feel, that if she should speak a syllable of it now, the truth that
lay behind it would look out, resistless, through its veil? That she
could not so keep down its spirit-meaning, that it should not flash,
electric, from her soul to his?

"It was only--that night," she said, tremulously. "It seemed very
strange. Before the fire, I had the dream. It was a dream of fire and
danger--danger that I could not escape from. And I held out my
hands--and I found you there--and you saved me. Oh, Mr. Armstrong! As you
_did_ save me, afterwards!"

Roger Armstrong turned, and faced her. His deep, earnest eyes, lit with
a new, strange radiance, smote upon hers, and held them spellbound with
their glance.

"I, too, dreamed that night," said he, "of an unknown peril to you. You
beckoned me. I sprang from out that dream, and rushed into the
night--until I found you!"

Their two souls met, in that brief recital, and knew that they had met
before. That, through the dreamland, there had been that call and
answer.

Faith neither spoke, nor stirred, nor trembled. This supreme moment of
her life held her unmoved in its own mightiness.

Roger Armstrong held out both his hands.

"Faith! In the sight of God, I believe you belong to me!"

At that solemn word, of force beyond all claim of a mere mortal love,
Faith stretched her hands in answer, and laid them into his, and bowed
her head above them.

"In the sight of God, I belong to you!"

So she gave herself. So she was taken. As God's gift, to the heart that
had been earthly desolate so long.

There was no dread, no shrinking, in that moment. A perfect love cast
out all fear.

And the new moon and the evening star shone down together in an absolute
peace.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

LAST HOURS.

"In this dim world of clouding cares
We rarely know, till 'wildered eyes
See white wings lessening up the skies,
The angels with us unawares.
. . . . .
"Strange glory streams through life's wild rents,
And through the open d