She unclasped her cloak and wrapped it round him, though he tried to protest against the deed. Together they went out on the deck, and stood hand in hand, sheltered by the bulwarks from the wind. In the east, above the grayness of the sea, the first golden breaking of the day fired the clouds with burning light. The storm was dying, and the Sussex Queen lay like a sick woman who rests in peace after the delirium of the night.
Jeffray stood with one arm about Bess’s body, his head thrown back as though in triumph. He pointed southward over the sea to where, not a mile away, the shores of France were lit by the rising sun.
“The sea gave you to me, dear,” he said, “and I have fought to save you from the sea.”
Bess held close to him and smiled.
“I shall wear my wedding-clothes for you,” she answered.
THE END
Transcriber’s Notes:
Spelling and hyphenation have been left as in the original. Obvious typesetting and punctuation errors have been corrected without note.
[The end of Bess of the Woods by Warwick Deeping]