I watch the crumbling fire and seem to see once more the fierce struggle in the market-place, the wild fight on the redoubt, and my cousin’s dark face. The years have gone by, and for me and mine there is peace and love, and naught a man in years may not think upon with joy.
Suddenly two hands from behind are over my eyes; ah, well I know their tender touch! Says a dear voice I hope to hear till life is over—and after that, I trust—“What are you thinking of, Hugh Wynne?”
“Of how sweet you have made my life to me, my darling.”
“Thank God!”
THE END.
{Transcriber’s Note: The word “harmy” in chapter 20 appears thus in our print copy. In chapter 25, “sorrrow” was corrected to “sorrow."}