ns but
the memory of your sorrow and your noble courage and patience."

"I can't realise it yet," she murmured. "It has been like a frightful,
interminable dream."

"Let us put it away," said I, "and think only of the happy life that is
opening."

She made no reply, and only a quick catch in her breath, now and again,
told of the long agony that she had endured with such heroic calm.

We walked on slowly, scarcely disturbing the silence with our soft
foot-falls, through the wide doorway into the second room. The vague
shapes of the mummy-cases standing erect in the wall-cases, loomed out
dim and gigantic, silent watchers keeping their vigil with the memories
of untold centuries locked in their shadowy breasts. They were an
awesome company. Reverend survivors from a vanished world, they looked
out from the gloom of their abiding-place, but with no shade of menace
or of malice in their silent presence; rather with a solemn benison on
the fleeting creatures of to-day.

Half-way along the room a ghostly figure, somewhat aloof from its
companions, showed a dim, pallid blotch where its face would have been.
With one accord we halted before it.

"Do you know who it is, Ruth?" I asked.

"Of course I do," she answered. "It is Artemidorus."

We stood, hand in hand, facing the mummy, letting our memories fill in
the vague silhouette with its well-remembered details. Presently I drew
her nearer to me and whispered:

"Ruth! do you remember when we last stood here?"

"As if I could ever forget!" she answered passionately. "Oh, Paul! The
sorrow of it! The misery! How it wrung my heart to tell you! Were you
_very_ unhappy when I left you?"

"Unhappy! I never knew, until then, what real, heart-breaking sorrow
was. It seemed as if the light had gone out of my life for ever. But
there was just one little spot of brightness left."

"What was that?"

"You made me a promise, dear--a solemn promise; and I felt--at least I
hoped--that the day would come, if I only waited patiently, when you
would be able to redeem it."

She crept closer to me and yet closer, until her head nestled on my
shoulder and her soft cheek lay against mine.

"Dear heart," I whispered, "is it now? Is the time fulfilled?"

"Yes, dearest," she murmured softly. "It is now--and for ever."

Reverently I folded her in my arms; gathered her to the heart that
worshipped her utterly. Henceforth no sorrows could hurt us, no
misfortunes vex; for we should wal