A brave crew had manned the lifeboat, and with the true pluck of British seamen, had fought against terrible odds to rescue that one lone, helpless creature. They succeeded; and amidst that black night and howling storm, another deed of heroism had silently written its tale upon the scrolls of British fame. And as Captain Ruglen’s gaze had first fallen on the rescued victim of the storm, he had started. He was a big, powerful man, with a tender, kindly heart. When, therefore, he bent over the silent figure and raised it in his arms, bearing it below to his own cabin, his men only saw in this act another evidence of the skipper’s kindly disposition. Yet in that brief glance, Gloria de Lara had been recognised; for what devoted adherent of her cause who had ever looked upon her face could forget it? Certes, not Captain Ruglen. A member of Ruglen clan, he was also an out-and-out D’Estrangeite; nor was this the first time that he had been in the company of Hector D’Estrange. But he knew that the once successful and powerful idol of Society was now a hunted and doomed felon, with a large reward out for her apprehension. He knew that many of his crew were not D’Estrangeites, and that it might go hard with him and her if she were recognised. Thus had he borne her to his cabin, determined there to protect and shield her, and carry her to the far-away free shores of the Spanish main, whither The Maid of Glad Tidings was bound.
Reaching it, Gloria’s first act had been to wire to Speranza de Lara in North America, and to Estcourt in England. As yet she had heard no tidings of the wonderful events which had led up to the triumph of her cause.
But those tidings sped back to her along the electric wire. They came in the shape of a loving message of welcome from the man she loved. From Evie Ravensdale she learnt how victory had crowned her efforts; from him came the tidings of great joy that her vow had been accomplished.
Once more the vast crowd of London surges in the streets,—a happy, joyous, good-humoured crowd nevertheless. Every house is gay with bunting and flags, and triumphal arches are in every street through which the procession will pass along.
What procession?
Why, is not this the day upon which Gloria de Lara is to reach our shores, and is she not to be welcomed back and publicly honoured in the great Hall of Liberty, where, when last she stood, she was a condemned and hunted felon?
The yacht Eilean has gone to meet her. It has joined the Colossus, in which Gloria has made her passage from South America at the mouth of the Thames. The party on board the Eilean consists solely of Speranza de Lara, Flora Desmond, and her child, a fine girl of seven years, together with Evie Ravensdale, Estcourt, Léonie, and Rita Vernon. All, with the exception of Speranza, wear the white gold-braided uniform of the White Guards’ Regiment of the Women Volunteers, an organisation which a Royal Proclamation has called back to life.
The Colossus has yielded up its precious charge. As the cutter bears Gloria de Lara away from the great war monster’s side towards the white, graceful Eilean that awaits her, the cannon belch forth their parting salute and welcome in one breath. There, standing on the deck ready to grasp her hand in a deep and loving tenderness, with heartfelt gratitude for her wonderful deliverance, stand the two beings whom she loves most in the world, Speranza de Lara and Evie Ravensdale. What human words could describe that meeting, for they thought her dead, and behold she is there in living life?
Tilbury Docks are reached; the roar of distant cannon announce her arrival. There she stands on the yacht’s bridge with Evie Ravensdale by her side. As the crowd sways to and fro to catch a glimpse of her, the people see that she wears the White Guards’ Uniform. The regiment is there to meet and welcome her. As she leaves the yacht, its band strikes up the beautiful march “Triumphant,” the same which had welcomed her to the Hall of Liberty, when, as Hector D’Estrange, she had performed the opening ceremony. The milk-white steed which she had ridden on that occasion now awaits her in its trappings of white-and-gold. Never has horse been so groomed and petted as this one.