'Then that is settled. Archie, you must stay because your future demands it. I met Mr. Stephenson yesterday. He told me that he is in great hopes about the play, and that, meantime, he will be able to put some work into your hands.' 'You are always thinking about me,' said Archie. 'Come to us in the summer. Take your holiday on Samson. Oh! Effie, we will be perfectly happy. We will forget London, and everything that has happened. Thank Heaven, the rubies are gone! I will send a piano there: we will carry with us loads of books and music. We will have a perfectly lovely time, with no one but ourselves. Roland will tell you how we will live. You will do nothing for a time, while you are drinking in the fresh air and getting strong. Then--then--you shall have ideas--great and glorious ideas--and you shall write far, far better poetry than any you have attempted yet.' 'And, meantime--we who have to remain behind?' asked Roland. 'What shall we do when you are gone?' * * * * * It takes longer to get to Penzance than to Edinburgh, because the train ceases to run and begins to crawl as soon as it leaves Plymouth. The best way is to take the nine o'clock train and to travel all night. Then you will probably sleep from Reading to Bristol: from Bristol to Exeter: and from Exeter to Plymouth. After that you will keep awake. In this way and by this train Armorel and Effie travelled to Penzance. Effie fell asleep very soon, and remained asleep all night long, waking up somewhere between Lostwithiel and Marazion. Armorel sat up wakeful the whole night through, yet was not tired in the morning. Partly, she was thinking of her stay in London, the crowning of her apprenticeship five years long. Nothing had happened as she had expected. Nothing, in this life, ever does. She had found the hero of her dreams defeated and fallen, a pitiable object. But he stood erect again, better armed and in better heart, his face turned upwards. Partly, another thing filled her heart and made her wakeful. Roland and Archie came with them to the station. 'Shall I ever be permitted to visit again the Land of Lyonesse?' whispered the former at the window just before the guard's whistle gave the signal for the train to start. She gave him her hand. 'Good-bye, Roland. You will come to Scilly--when you please--as soon as you can.' He held her hand. 'I live only in that hope,' he replied. The train began to move. He bent and kissed her fingers. She leaned forward. 'Roland,' she said, 'I also live only in that hope.' CHAPTER XXVI NOT THE HEIR, AFTER ALL