"Trust it, then, most of all when it frightens you, its first passion
fading. For then, sickening of what is transient, it dies to put on
permanence; as the creature dies--as I am dying, Prosper--into the
greatness of the Creator.

"Take comfort and courage, then. For though the narrow beam falls no
longer from heaven, you and she will remember the spot where it
surprised you, unsealing your eyes. Let the place, the hour, be
sacred, and you the witnesses sacred one to another. So He that made
you ministers shall keep your garlands from fading.

"O Lord of Love, high and heavenly King! who, making the hands of boy
and girl to tremble, dost of their thoughtless impulse build up
states, establish societies, and people the world, accept these
children!

"O Master, who payest not by time, take the thanks of thy servant!
O Captain, receive my sword! O hands!"--my father raised his stiffly
towards the crucifix which Dom Basilio uplifted, standing a little
behind the Queen. "O wounded hands--nay, they are shaped like thine,
Emilia--reach and resume my soul! _In manus tuas, Domine--in manus--
in manus tuas. . . ."

"It is over," said Dom Basilio, slowly, after a long silence.

I saw the Queen lower the grey head back against its pillow, and
turned to the window, where the Princess gazed out over the sea.
For a minute--maybe for longer--I stood beside her following her
gaze; then, as she lifted a hand and pointed, I was aware of two
ships on the south-west horizon, the both under full sail and
standing towards the castle.

"Last night," said I, and paused, wondering if indeed so short a
while had passed; "theirs were the guns, off Nonza."

She nodded, meeting my eyes for an instant only, and averting hers
again to the horizon. To my dismay they were dark and troubled.

"Not now--not now!" she murmured hurriedly, almost fiercely, as I
would have touched her hand. Again her eyes crossed mine, and I read
that love no longer looked forth from them, but a gloomy doubt in its
place.

From the next window my Uncle Gervase had spied the ships, and now
drew Dom Basilio's attention to them. The two discussed them for a
minute. "Were they Corsican vessels, or Genoese?" Dom Basilio
plucked me by the arm, to know my opinion. I told him of the firing
we had heard off Nonza.

"In my belief," said I, "they are Corsicans that have drawn off from
the bombardment, though why I cannot divine, unless it be in
curiosity