sheltered, warm spot.

When the dark night had come, when the tired oxen were tied to the
wheels, and the driver and leader had rolled themselves in their
blankets before the fire, and gone to sleep, then Gregory fastened down
the sails of the wagon securely. He fixed a long candle near the head of
the bed, and lay down himself on the floor of the wagon near the back.
He leaned his head against the kartel, and listened to the chewing of
the tired oxen, and to the crackling of the fire, till, overpowered by
weariness, he fell into a heavy sleep. Then all was very still in the
wagon. The dog slept on his mistress' feet, and only two mosquitoes,
creeping in through a gap in the front sail, buzzed drearily round.

The night was grown very old when from a long, peaceful sleep Lyndall
awoke. The candle burnt at her head, the dog lay on her feet; but he
shivered; it seemed as though a coldness struck up to him from his
resting-place. She lay with folded hands, looking upward; and she heard
the oxen chewing, and she saw the two mosquitoes buzzing drearily round
and round, and her thoughts--her thoughts ran far back into the past.

Through these months of anguish a mist had rested on her mind; it was
rolled together now, and the old clear intellect awoke from its long
torpor. It looked back into the past, it saw the present; there was no
future now. The old strong soul gathered itself together for the last
time; it knew where it stood.

Slowly raising herself on her elbow, she took from the sail a glass that
hung pinned there. Her fingers were stiff and cold. She put the pillow
on her breast, and stood the glass against it. Then the white face on
the pillow looked into the white face in the glass. They had looked at
each other often so before. It had been a child's face once, looking out
above its blue pinafore; it had been a woman's face, with a dim shadow
in the eyes, and a something which had said, "We are not afraid, you and
I; we are together; we will fight, you and I." Now tonight it had come
to this.

The dying eyes on the pillow looked into the dying eyes in the glass;
they knew that their hour had come. She raised one hand and pressed the
stiff fingers against the glass. They were growing very stiff. She tried
to speak to it, but she would never speak again. Only the wonderful
yearning light was in the eyes still. The body was dead now, but the
soul, clear and unclouded, looked forth.

Then slowly, without a soun