"She won't be frightened," he said. "I told her—last night."
Coombe had asked himself if he must go to her. But, marvellously even to him, there was no need.
When they stood in the dark little hall—as she had come down the stone stairway on the morning when she bade him her sacred little good-bye, so she came down again—like a white blossom drifting down from its branch—like a white feather from a dove's wing.—But she held her baby in her arms and to Donal her cheeks and lips and eyes were as he had first seen them in the Gardens.
He trembled as he watched her and even found himself spellbound—waiting.
"Donal! Donal!"
And they were in his arms—the soft warm things—and he sat down upon the lowest step and held them—rocking—and trembling still more—but with the gates of peace open and earth and war shut out.
THE END
Transcriber's note: The following non-standard features of the text have been carefully checked against the original, and retained as printed:
Words appearing both hyphenated and joined
Words with alternate spellings also used in the text
Some — dashes are spaced, others are joined to the nearest words both sides.