'There were many things better than you fancy,' she answered; 'and it is over—it is all gladness now.'
'I see that in your face,' he said, gazing his fill. 'You do look ill indeed; but, Ave, I never saw you so content.'
'I can't help it,' she said, smiling. 'Every moment comes some fresh kindness from him. The more trouble I give him the kinder he is. Is it not as if the tempest was over, and we had been driven into the smoothest little sunshiny bay?'
'To rest and refit,' he said, thoughtfully.
'For me, "the last long wave;" and a most gentle smooth one it is,' said Averil; 'for you to refit for a fresh voyage. Dear Leonard, I have often guessed what you would do.'
'What have you guessed?'
'Only what we used to plan, in the old times after you had been at Coombe, Leonard.'
'Dear sister! And you would let me go!'
'Our parting is near, any way,' she said, her eye turning to the print from Ary Scheffer's St. Augustine and Monica. 'Whoever gave us that, divined how we ought to feel in these last days together.'
'It was Richard May's gift,' said Leonard. 'Ave, there was nothing wanting but your liking this.'