EPILOGUE
Tristram.
"Raise the light, my page! that I may see her—
Thou art come at last, then, haughty Queen?
Long I've waited, long I've fought my fever;
Late thou comest, cruel hast thou been."
Iseult.
"Blame me not, poor sufferer! that I tarried;
Bound I was, I could not break the band.
Chide not with the past, but feel the present!
I am here—we meet—I hold thy hand."
Matthew Arnold: "Tristram and Iseult."
I had intended to write no more, but as we left the Consulate to-day after our wedding, a cable was handed me by my smiling Italian valet.
"Paddy Culling for a bob!" I said, as I opened it and prepared for some whimsical message of congratulation.
I was wrong. The cable was my reply from Yokohama.
"No offence intended," it ran. "Delighted lunch as suggested.—Seraph."
THE END
PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, LONDON AND BECCLES.
Typographical errors corrected in text:
Page 66: A sackbut is a trombone from the Renaissance and Baroque eras.