She made her way to the enclosed veranda where she had kept her rendezvous with Pendragon on the afternoon of her arrival. It was quite deserted now, but far out on the crest of one of the near hills she saw a moving, black splotch against the snow that as she watched gradually resolved itself into three figures—John Peyton-Russell, Terry and Professor Pendragon. It gave her a strange thrill to see them thus—Pendragon striding along with the rest. Surely this was a miracle—a Christmas miracle, and she remembered a sentence in an old book of witchcraft that she had once read:
“Verily there be magic both black and white, but of these two, the white magic prevaileth ever over the black.”
CHAPTER XVIII
Ruth did not see Gloria until just before luncheon.
“I told him, and he’s going,” she said.
“Did he make much of a row?”
“Not after I explained that you hadn’t any money.”
“Let’s not talk about him any more—only has he gone yet?”
“Yes; he wouldn’t even wait until train time. Said he could get luncheon in the village and started out as soon as he could pack. I’m so happy about it—now you can marry Professor Pendragon again.”
She realized at once that she shouldn’t have said it, but she had left so much unsaid during the last few weeks and now with both George and Prince Aglipogue gone she felt that the seal had been removed from her lips. She felt too, in a curious way, that Gloria though so many years older, was in a way her special charge—that she was entering a new life and must be guided.