"It's almost a year ago," whispered Elizabeth.
"Yes, almost a year," answered Charles Stuart.
Down the bank past the mill, and up the opposite shore ran the little stony path they had so often trodden in schooldays. It crossed The Slash, now a trim clover-field, and disappeared into the cool depths of Forest Glen. But they could follow it still in imagination. It passed Eppie's old-new home they knew, went down the lane, skirted the highway, and curved round into the grassy churchyard where John lay.
They turned at last and went up the lane together. There were tears in Elizabeth's eyes, but the words of a song were on her lips:—
"And when the strife is fierce, the warfare long,
Steals on the ear the distant triumph song,
And hearts are brave again and arias are strong,
Hallelujah!"
THE END