It was a fortnight later that Barmouth and Seymour came down-stairs looking a little drawn and white, but otherwise exactly like two ordinary men who had just recovered from some commonplace illness. Serena was there with her boy, but not the Serena of old. Years seemed to have fallen from her shoulders, there was a color in her face, and a sparkle in her eyes which fairly astonished Jack when he saw her. He pressed her hand silently, saying no word, and Serena understood him more thoroughly than if he had been gifted with the finest eloquence in the world.
It was all ended and done with at last; the organ had pealed out its triumphal march, the cherry-cheeked children had cast their last handful of flowers at the feet of the happy bride, the wedding was over, and now the carriage stood at the door. Claire recollected it all clearly afterwards, but at the moment she felt like one who dreams pleasant things. It was only when the prosaic banging of the railway carriage door struck upon her ears that she came entirely to herself again. The train was speeding through the peaceful landscape, Claire leaned her head tenderly on Jack's shoulder, and a sigh of happiness escaped her.
"What is that sigh for?" Jack asked tenderly.
"Peace and happiness," Claire cried. There was just a suggestion of tears in her eyes. "It seems so strange to be with you like this, and yet only the other day--but I will not think of that. We will say no more about the dark days, but dwell entirely with the happy hours to come."
Jack bent and kissed the quivering red lips. Then a great content came into their hearts, and they were silent.