"But I know I can't," whispered Chris.
"I think you can." He spoke with grave conviction.
"Will you—will you hold my hand?" faltered Chris.
He took it at once. She felt his fingers close steadily upon it, and a sense of comfort stole over her. She clasped them very tightly, and closed her eyes.
The train drummed on through the night, bearing her back to Valpré, back to the old enchantments, to the sands, the caves, and the rocks. She began to hear again the long, low wash of the sea. Or was it the sound of wheels that raced over the metals? Before her inner vision came the spreading line of foam that had rushed how often to catch her dancing feet. And the quiet pools crystal-clear among the rocks, with the sunshine that turned their pebbly floors to gold, so that they became palaces of delight, draped with exquisite curtains of rose and palest green, peopled with scuttling crabs that were not really crabs at all, but the spellbound retinue of the knight who dwelt in the Magic Cave.
She looked towards the Gothic archway, expectant, with quickening breath. Surely he would be coming soon! Ah, now she saw him—a radiant, white-clad figure, with the splendour of eternal youth upon him and the Deathless Magic in his eyes.
And suddenly her own eyes were opened, so that she knew beyond all doubting that the spell that bound him—that bound them both—was the spell of Immortality, the Divine Passport—Love the Indestructible.
Thereafter came a wondrous peace, solacing her, calming her, wrapping her round. Once she stirred, and was conscious of a quiet hand holding hers, lulling her to a more assured restfulness. And so at last she slipped into the quiet of a deep slumber, and the throbbing anxiety sank utterly away.
When she opened her eyes again it was in answer to her husband's voice.
She awoke quite naturally to find him bending over her.
"We are at Valpré," he said.