Yes, all, all that she had longed for him to show himself lay here between the candles; and with it their love, safe for ever. And very gently Valentine de Trélan gathered up from their restingplace the almost bodiless petals of the yellow poppy which were thus given back to her, and held them a moment in the curve of her hand. They seemed to mean, now, even more than they had meant that day, since they had lain on the heart which, in making so great a sacrifice, asked of her a courage as great, a fortitude longer drawn. Yet it was a crown that she would carry—sharp, but royal. She looked at the composed and beautiful head on the soldier’s cloak.
“I am his wife,” she said to herself, “—his widow!”
THE END.
Reproduced and printed by
Lowe & Brydone (Printers) Limited,
101, Park St., Camden Town, N.W.1.
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
A few obvious printing errors have been silently corrected. Otherwise, inconsistencies, variations and possible errors in spelling and grammar have been preserved. Please note the following changes:
“though” changed to “through” and