e strong
moonlight. There was something pitiless about the moon. It revealed so
much that might have been mercifully veiled.

From the far distance there came the long roll of cannon, shattering the
peace of the night, but it was a long way off. In the chateau-garden
there was no sound but the tinkle of the fountain and the laboured,
spasmodic breathing of a man wounded wellnigh unto death.

Only a few yards separated him now from the running water. It sounded
like a fairy laughter, and all the gruesome horrors of the place faded
into unreality. Surely it was fed by the stream at home that flowed
through the preserves--the stream where the primroses grew!

Only a few more yards! But how damnably difficult it was to cover them!
He could hardly drag his weighted limbs along. It was the old game. He
knew it well. But how devilish to fetter him so! It had been the ruin of
his life. He set his teeth, and forced himself on. He would win through
in spite of all.

The moonlight poured dazzlingly upon the white marble basin, and on the
figure of a nymph who bent above it, delicately poised like a butterfly
about to take wing. He wondered if she would flee at his approach, but
she did not. She stood there waiting for him, a thing of infinite
daintiness, the one object untouched in that ravaged garden. Perhaps
after all it was she and not the fountain that drew him so irresistibly.
He had a great longing to hear her speak, but he was afraid to address
her lest he should scare her away. She was so slight, so spiritual, so
exquisite in her fairy grace. She made him think of Jeanie--little Jeanie
who had prayed for his happiness and had not lived to see her prayer
fulfilled.

He drew near with a certain stealthiness, fearing to startle her. He
would have risen to his feet, but his strength was ebbing fast. He knew
he could not.

And then--just ere he reached the marble basin, the goal of that long,
bitter journey--he saw her turn a little towards him; he heard her speak.

"Dear Sir Galahad!"

"Jeanie!" he gasped.

She seemed to sway above the gleaming water. Even then--even then--he was
not sure of her--till he saw her face of childish purity and the happy
smile of greeting in her eyes!

"How very tired you must be!" she said.

"I am, Jeanie! I am!" he groaned in answer. "These chains--these iron
bars--I shall never get free!"

He saw her white arms reach out to him. He thought her fingers touched
his brow. And he kne