that new
and wonderful way as her arms reached out to him, and the words he heard
her say came low and sobbing:

"John--John, if you want to, now--you can tell me that my hair is
beautiful!"

And then she was in his arms, her warm, sweet body crushed close to him,
her face lifted to him, her soft hands stroking his face, and over and over
again she was speaking his name while from out of his soul there rushed
forth the mighty flood of his great love; and he held her there, forgetful
of time now, forgetful of death itself; and he kissed her tender lips, her
hair, her eyes--conscious only that in the hour of death he had found life,
that her hands were stroking his face, and caressing his hair, and that
over and over again she was whispering sobbingly his name, and that she
loved him. The pressure of her hands against his breast at last made him
free her. And now, truly, she was glorious. For the triumph of love had
overridden the despair of death, and her face was flooded with its colour
and in her eyes was its glory.

And then, as they stood there, a step between them, there came--almost like
the benediction of a cathedral bell--the soft, low tinkling chime of the
half-hour bell in Aldous' watch!

It struck him like a blow. Every muscle in him became like rigid iron, and
his torn hands clenched tightly at his sides.

"Joanne--Joanne, it is impossible!" he cried huskily, and he had her close
in his arms again, even as her face was whitening in the lantern-glow. "I
have lived for you, I have waited for you--all these years you have been
coming, coming, coming to me--and now that you are mine--_mine_--it is
impossible! It cannot happen----"

He freed her again, and caught up a lantern. Foot by foot he examined the
packed tunnel. It was solid--not a crevice or a break through which might
have travelled the sound of his voice or the explosion of a gun. He did not
shout. He knew that it would be hopeless, and that his voice would be
terrifying in that sepulchral tomb. Was it possible that there might be
some other opening--a possible exit--in that mountain wall? With the
lantern in his hand he searched. There was no break. He came back to
Joanne. She was standing where he had left her. And suddenly, as he looked
at her, all fear went out of him, and he put down the lantern and went to
her.

"Joanne," he whispered, holding her two hands against his breast, "you are
not afraid?"

"No, I am not afraid."

"And you kno