He bowed his head. "May God give you all the happiness that I wish for you," he said. "The End!"
She looked steadily into his eyes for a long time, searching his soul for the hope that never dies. Then she gently withdrew her hands and stood away from him, humbled in her own soul.
"Yes," she whispered. "Good-bye."
He straightened his shoulders and drew a deep breath through compressed nostrils. "Good-bye! God bless you," was all that he said.
She left him standing there; the wall between them was too high, too impregnable for even Love to storm.
Lady Deppingham came to him there a moment later. "I am sorry," she said tenderly. "Is there no hope?"
"There is no hope—for her!" he said bitterly. "She was condemned too long ago."
On the pier they said good-bye to him. He was laughing as gaily and as blithely as if the world held no sorrows in all its mighty grasp.
"I'll look you up in London," he said to the Deppinghams. "Remember, the real trial is yet to come. Good-bye, Browne. Good-bye, all! You may come again another day!"
The launch slipped away from the pier. He and Bowles stood there, side by side, pale-faced but smiling, waving their handkerchiefs. He felt that Genevra was still looking into his eyes, even when the launch crept up under the walls of the distant ship.