there is nothing to regret."

"Nothing to regret!" Unbelief was in his gaze.

"Ah! We mustn't talk about it--but can't you see--can't you
understand?"

She leaned over him, giving him her eyes, letting him look to the very
depths he had once wanted to explore. He saw love there, and joy in
love, but as well the will to renounce gladly--and no lurking shadow to
say that she had bravely lied.

"Do you believe--that I am not unhappy and will not be?"

"I can't understand. But I have to believe. I am glad to believe."

He closed his eyes and relaxed his tired body, to learn that the wound
was throbbing sharply. But that was a little thing.

She sat beside him, her face turned again to the sunlight. Once she
reached out and touched his hand caressingly; he caught hers and clung
to it as though he could not let it go. It was not a long silence.

But it was long enough. In those few minutes he went up out of the
valley again and stood with her on another mount. And to him, too,
came the free will to renounce; and understanding. Sorrow abode with
him still, an exquisite pang that was to leave a lasting scar. But in
his heart glowed a strange fire--as if for some splendid
victory--lighted only for that hour, it may be, but revealing to him
what he had found; a love that had not failed, that asked nothing, able
to triumph over all things, even itself. It was so he had dreamed love
might be. He was glad he had found it. He was glad of the cup it had
put to his lips. He was the richer for her. He would be the richer
for seeing her go. He hoped that the sorrow would never quite pass out
of his heart, that the love would never shrink to a mere memory.

He lifted shining eyes to hers.

"Now I understand! Some things aren't worth all they cost. What I
wanted last night is one of them. But this--I would not be without it,
even though--"

"Nor would I."

Tears were gemming her eyes once more. But they were not sorrowful
tears and they did not fall.

It was time for her to go. The hands that had not ceased to cling fell
apart. She went slowly across the room.

At the door she lingered a moment, looking back. Through the streaming
mist he saw her face, bright in the white glory of renunciation. She
smiled . . . and was gone. . . .

The same brightness was upon him. But he did not know that. He stood
on the mount to which she had led him, still seeing her. And still
there were no regrets. To