Contrition filled him as he remembered the picture of her standing beside the derelict's berth swearing him to the truth of his statement. He started to speak, but a hand over his mouth stopped him. The gold woman could read his thoughts.
"I should have answered you when you called me that night, Paul," she said, "but if I had done so I should not have been able to get the poor old fellow to make his mark. I had fought death from taking him until I could put in writing what he said. You——"
She did not finish, for he drew her cheek down against his.
Two hours later Paul Lavelle and Emily Granville sailed through the Golden Gate—the golden gate of the future which she had promised him.
The noble sea way was shimmering in the sunlight of a flawless Spring day. As the Daphne came under the lee of the green-clad Marin hills the northwest wind, which had been her constant champion, withdrew like a courtier who has seen his lady to the threshold of her home.
"To live and to love!" exclaimed Paul, inhaling a deep breath of the crisp, sparkling air where he had been carried from the lounge to a chair against the taffrail.
"To love and to live," whispered Emily, pressing the hand which she held in hers against her heart. "Isn't life beautiful?"
"We are but coming through its gate, darling," he answered.
THE END
[The end of The Girl of the Golden Gate by William Brown Meloney]