Ariel was swept by terror. Her blood ran icy again, as at dinner. She tore her eyes from Hugh’s startled, puzzled face. Oh, the aquamarine had told her right. Her darling’s agony and death was coming swiftly—swiftly—Tears rose in an agony of their own in her throat and scalded her cheeks. Her sight fought through them for a view of the beloved face. Already Death was slipping over it the mask for agony. But no. The mask was carelessly put on—anyhow—askew. Ariel saw this.... And then, as if her tears were a clarifying medium—as in this case they were—she saw that under the badly adjusted mask-for-agony Grandam was smiling. It was a new sort of smile altogether. It seemed to express anticipation, a kind of joyous excitement.... Youth.... Love.... An almost _shy_ love. But the smile was not for Ariel, nor for Hugh. For some one else entirely.... Some one whose hands Grandam guessed were about to open the door of her coach and let her out into Eternity? Or for some one else at the Saint’s shoulder? Only Death knows. Through salty lips Ariel was sobbing—“Tell Father that I love him with my whole heart and that I am happy, happy—” Hugh knelt. There was no time to get help or to do anything themselves. He held Grandam up, supported her agony. “Darling!” he whispered. “Tell Gregory Clare that I will take care of his girl as long as we both shall live. Tell him that I love Ariel. No! Tell him _how_ I love Ariel.” And they knew—_just_—that Grandam caught their messages. THE END Transcriber’s Notes --Copyright notice provided as in the original—this e-text is public domain in the country of publication. --In the text versions, delimited italics text in _underscores_ (the HTML version reproduces the font form of the printed book.) --Silently corrected palpable typos; left non-standard spellings and dialect unchanged. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Ariel Dances, by Ethel Cook Eliot