Slowly Brooke struggled to her feet, for in truth her clothes were damp and heavy, though she had not before felt it. Standing there, she looked up and smiled, and once again that shaft of light went forth from her to him, as she said in yearning accents: “What more to say, Henri? All that a man may say to the woman who loves him.” “Eucharistia!” he cried, still holding back in blind amazement. “It is not parting, then, beloved, but waiting for you and work for me!” “No; work for you _and work for me_, for what else means the awakening?” And placing her hand in his, she walked by his side along the border of the stream, while the wind carried the news throughout the River Kingdom, and Tatters, pushing himself between them, wagged his tail as he licked the blistered fingers.