I had been speaking earnestly to Thelma—pleading with her all the fervor of the love I had so long held in restraint but which, now she was free, poured out with violence that overwhelmed me. She heard me without comment or response. But she made no protest, she allowed me to hold her hand, even when I pressed it tenderly to my lips she did not withdraw it.
The hope that had never quite died rose again in my heart. I felt Thelma trembling; a beautiful warmth that I had never seen before glowed upon her cheeks, her eyes were lustrous with the brilliancy of tears which welled up into them but did not fall. She stood looking out across the broad Mediterranean towards the African coast which the colors of the sunset paled into the faint splendor of the afterglow.
The light was nearly gone, and still she made no sign. But presently words failed me and I simply stood and held out my arms in a last despairing appeal.
Then my darling came to me, slowly and sweetly, her great grey eyes aflame with a light I had never seen before. And our lips met at last.
We were married in October and spent our honeymoon in Seville and Malaga. Christmas found us at the Hotel Regina at Wengen, a little below Mürren, where we both went skiing daily. We visited Mürren, of course, hallowed to us for all time as the place of that strange first meeting from which all our troubles and all our happiness had sprung.
We are rich, of course, Sung-tchun’s fortune was enormous. But we live very quietly in my old home—my father’s quaint, old-world cottage on the Salisbury road a few miles from Andover. Most of our income, apart from our own modest wants, goes to help the slum children of London. Thelma never tires of them and every summer forms a big camp to which hundreds come down for a few days’ glorious holiday. They all seem to worship her and over even the roughest of them she seems to exercise a magical fascination.
Old Doctor Feng, to whom we owe so much, is our chief friend. He comes and goes as he pleases. There is a room reserved for him and always ready. Devoted to Thelma, he spends much of his time with us. He never tires of talking of the Crystal Claw, the magic talisman that saved us for each other. And every now and again, with his inimitable chuckle, he croaks out, “Yelverton, I told you the arm of the Thu-tseng was long!”
It was long indeed. It stretched half across the world to give us—two tiny units caught in a cruel trap—a helping hand in our dire distress. We owe our wealth, our radiant happiness, our very lives to the magical influence of the Crystal Claw.
THE END