t trace was left in her face of the terror that
had convulsed it barely a minute since! "How came you by this?" she
repeated, seizing me by the arm and shaking me, in the ungovernable
impatience that possessed her.

My head turned giddy, my heart beat furiously under the conflict of
emotions that she had roused in me. My eyes were riveted on the green
flag. The words that I wanted to speak were words that refused to come
to me. I answered, mechanically: "I have had it since I was a boy."

She dropped her hold on me, and lifted her hands with a gesture of
ecstatic gratitude. A lovely, angelic brightness flowed like light from
heaven over her face. For one moment she stood enraptured. The next she
clasped me passionately to her bosom, and whispered in my ear: "I am
Mary Dermody! I made it for You!"

The shock of discovery, following so closely on all that I had suffered
before it, was too much for me. I sank, fainting, in her arms.

When I came to myself I was lying on my bed in the cabin. Elfie was
playing with the green flag, and Mary was sitting by me with my hand in
hers. One long look of love passed silently from her eyes to mine--from
mine to hers. In that look the kindred spirits were united; The Two
Destinies were fulfilled.

THE END OF THE STORY.

The Finale.

THE WIFE WRITES, AND CLOSES THE STORY.

THERE was a little introductory narrative prefixed to "The Two
Destinies," which you may possibly have forgotten by this time.

The narrative was written by myself--a citizen of the United States,
visiting England with his wife. It described a dinner-party at which we
were present, given by Mr. and Mrs. Germaine, in celebration of their
marriage; and it mentioned the circumstances under which we were
intrusted with the story which has just come to an end in these pages.
Having read the manuscript, Mr. and Mrs. Germaine left it to us to
decide whether we should continue our friendly intercourse with them or
not.

At 3 o'clock P.M. we closed the last leaf of the story. Five minutes
later I sealed it up in its cover; my wife put her bonnet on, and there
we were, bound straight for Mr. Germaine's house, when the servant
brought a letter into the room, addressed to my wife.

She opened it, looked at the signature, and discovered that it was "Mary
Germaine." Seeing this, we sat down side by side to read the letter
before we did anything else.

On reflection, it strikes me that you may do well to rea