at the porch.

I heard the metallic clashing of the door of the automobile--he was
already in the car.

I heard the throb of the motor and ruckling of the gravel of the
path--he was moving away.

I heard the dying down of the engine and the soft roll of the rubber
wheels--I was alone.

For some moments after that the world seemed empty and void. But the
feeling passed, and when I recovered my strength I found Martin's letter
in my moist left hand.

Then I knelt before the fire, and putting the letter into the flames I
burnt it.

SEVENTY-FIRST CHAPTER

Within, two hours of Martin's departure I had regained complete
possession of myself and was feeling more happy than I had ever felt
before.

The tormenting compunctions of the past months were gone. It was just as
if I had obeyed some higher law of my being and had become a freer and
purer woman.

My heart leapt within me and to give free rein to the riot of my joy I
put on my hat and cloak to go into the glen.

Crossing the garden I came upon Tommy the Mate, who told me there had
been a terrific thunderstorm during the night, with torrential rain,
which had torn up all the foreign plants in his flower-beds.

"It will do good, though," said the old man. "Clane out some of their
dirty ould drains, I'm thinkin'."

Then he spoke of Martin, whom he had seen off, saying he would surely
come back.

"'Deed he will though. A boy like yander wasn't born to lave his bark in
the ice and snow . . . Not if his anchor's at home, anyway"--with a
"glime" in my direction.

How the glen sang to me that morning! The great cathedral of nature
seemed to ring with music--the rustling of the leaves overhead, the
ticking of the insects underfoot, the bleating of the sheep, the lowing
of the cattle, the light chanting of the stream, the deep organ-song of
the sea, and then the swelling and soaring Gloria in my own bosom, which
shot up out of my heart like a lark out of the grass in the morning.

I wanted to run, I wanted to shout, and when I came to the paths where
Martin and I had walked together I wanted--silly as it sounds to say
so--to go down on my knees and kiss the very turf which his feet had
trod.

I took lunch in the boudoir as before, but I did not feel as if I were
alone, for I had only to close my eyes and Martin, from the other side
of the table, seemed to be looking across at me. And neither did I feel
that the room was full of dead laughter, for our