I feel nothing," she answered bitterly; "between you, you have killed my
heart, and all that was good in me."

So his heart yearned all the more for the gentler, more tender Iseult.
Wearily he moved in his bed and watched for the first gleam of daylight.
Slowly the hours dragged by, relieved only by the plash, plash of the
waves against the castle walls, or the sighs of the sick man.

Then within a while he spoke again. "My wife," he said, "when morning
comes, look across the sea, and tell me if you see a ship coming, and if
its sails be black or white, that I may the sooner be out of this
miserable uncertainty."

Obediently she rose, and sat watching until the first ray of dawn, when,
skimming over the sea through the morning mist, she saw the dainty 'Swan,'
with her white sails like wings gleaming through the dimness. Over the
wide waters she flew, until she drew close to the castle, and the anchor
was cast. Then from out her sprang Ganhardine, and following quickly
after him came La Belle Iseult. Too impatient to wait for help she sprang
lightly on the shore, and stood there breathless, eager, glad.

And so for the first time Iseult la Blanche Mains saw that other Iseult,
and as she stood on the shore in her white gown, with her golden hair
falling out under her hood like a mantle over her shoulders, the unhappy
wife marvelled not that Tristram loved so fair a creature, and her heart
sank at sight of her beauty, and fiercer burnt her jealousy.

"They come," she said sullenly, turning to her husband.

"Ah!" he cried, with a deep groan of intolerable suspense. "Of thy mercy
tell me, and do not torture me!"

"The sails are black," she answered in a cold, hard voice.

Then was the terrified woman sore afraid, for with a mighty effort Sir
Tristram sprang from his bed, and took one step across the floor, and in a
voice that made even her heart throb and bleed with pity, "Iseult--my
love--my love!" he cried. Then a sudden darkness falling upon him, he
flung out his arms as though to catch at something. "Iseult--Iseult--my
love--come--to me!" he gasped in broken tones, and with a thud fell at his
wife's feet, dead.

"I come, my love, I come!" rang out a sweet voice, full of love and
tenderness and joy; and up the castle steps flew La Belle Iseult, and
across the hall to where he lay. And never a look she gave at the pale,
unhappy wife. Never a glance at aught beside that form.

"Tristram, my beloved! I am