and he knew into the soul of his soul that the words spoken by
those loyal lips--now clay beneath that clay--were coming true, that,
out of his house laid desolate to him was to rise a new and stately
mansion.

Grasping her closer he hurried into the sanctuary of the old room,
where he had first seen her bright young beauty.

At the door he gently suffered her to stand, still supporting her with
one arm about her waist. As they entered, she cast a rapid glance
around: her eyes, bedewed with rising tears, fell upon the heap of
gold glinting under the rays of the sinking sun, and she understood
the nature of the task her coming had interrupted. Her tears gushed
forth; catching his hand between hers, and looking up at him with a
strange, wonderful humility, she pressed it to her lips.

What need for words between them, then?

He stood a little while motionless in front of her, entranced yet
still almost incredulous, as one suddenly freed from long intolerable
pain, when there rose once more, for the last time, before his mind's
eye the ideal image that had been the companion of twenty years of his
existence. It was vivid almost as life. He saw Cecile de Savenaye bend
over her child with grave and tender look, then turn and smile upon
him with the old exquisite sweetness that he had adored so madly in
that far off past. And then, it was as if she had merged into Molly.
Behold, she was gone! there was no Cecile, only Molly the woman he
loved. Molly, whom now he seized to his heart, who smiled at him
through her tears as he bent to kiss her lips.

Twilight was waning and the light of Scarthey beamed peacefully over
the yellow sands; and the waves receded dragging away sand and shingle
from the foot of the hidden grave.

***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIGHT OF SCARTHEY***

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