“Did you hear her last last words?” said Harry gravely.
“Yes.”
The look which accompanied the answer was frank and calm. It seemed to lack emotion, but there was a depth of patient truth and trust therein which told of enduring faith.
“She would have me marry soon—some good, true woman, one of the Haute Noblesse.”
“Yes; it would be better so.”
“I have loved one of the Haute Noblesse for seven years as a weak, foolish boy—seven years as a trusting man—and she has not changed. Maddy, is my reward to come at last?”
As Madelaine placed her hands calmly in those extended to her she seemed without emotion still; but there was a joyous light in her brightening eyes, and then a deep flush suffused her cheeks as two words were spoken by one of the trio of old men who had slowly toiled up towards where they stood. “Thank God!”
It was George Vine who spoke, and the others seemed to look “Amen.”