? Or Death--which is
the gateway to our great Reality? Listen, _mignonne_! I am a prisoner
while I live, but the gate opens to me. Soon I shall be free. No, no!
I cannot take you with me. I would not, _cherie_, if I could. Your place
is here. But remember--always--that I love you still. And my love is
stronger than death. It stretches into eternity."

He paused, and made a slight gesture of refusal. "Ah, no!" he said. "I do
not want a priest. My sins are all known--and pardoned. I only want--one
thing now."

"What is it, old chap?" It was Max Wyndham's voice, but pitched so low
that Chris scarcely recognized it.

The head on the pillow moved, turning towards the speaker. "So, _mon
ami_, you are still there?"

"What is it you are wanting?" Max said.

Bertrand drew a breath that was cut short and ended in a gasp. "_Mon
ami_, I only want--to hold her little hand in mine--and to hear her
say--that she is--happy."

And then it was that Chris moved forward, as if impelled by a volition
not her own, and knelt down by Bertrand's side.

"Do you want me, Bertie?" she said. "I've come, dear! I've come!"

He put out his hand to her at once, but slowly, as though feeling his
way. "Christine!" he said.

She took the groping hand, and held it fast pressed between her own.
"Yes, dear?" she murmured.

"You are really here?" he said. "It is not--a dream?"

"No, Bertie, no! It is I myself, here with you at Valpre."

She felt his hand close within her own. "You are come--to say good-bye to
me?" he said. "And Mr. Mordaunt--is he here also?"

"He brought me," whispered Chris.

"Ah!" She heard the relief in his voice. "Then--Christine, all is right
between you?"

But she was silent, for she could not answer him.

He stirred. He leaned slowly forward. "Tell me," he said, very earnestly,
"tell me that all is well between you."

But Chris said no word. She only bowed her head over the hand she held.

There was a brief silence. Bertrand was bending over her. He seemed to be
trying to see her face. He moved at last, passed his free arm around her,
and spoke. "Mr. Mordaunt--is he here?"

"Yes, I am here." Very steadily came Mordaunt's answer. Mordaunt himself
took Max's place beside him.

Bertrand looked up at him. "Monsieur--" he said, and hesitated.

"Ask him what he wants," muttered Max, gripping his brother-in-law's
elbow with tense insistence.

"Do you want anything?" He uttered the question at once, quite clearly,