“All gone, main-topgallant yard, sir.” “Then hoist away.” Under all sail the _Broken Heart_ swayed seawards, treading down the rollers, creaming a track across the sea, dark now in its blueness, with crinkling wind-ruffles. When the night fell, shutting out the Main, and the stars climbed out, solemn and golden, she was in the strength of the trade, rolling to the northward, circled by the gleams of dolphins, hurrying in sudden fires. After dark that night Margaret sat on the locker-top, looking at the wake, as it shone below him about the rudder. He was thinking over his manifold failure, feeling disgraced and stained, a defeated, broken man. Olivia entered quietly from the alleyway. He only felt her enter. There was no light in the cabin. The steward was busy with the wounded. “Is that you, Olivia?” he asked, knowing that it was she. He felt in his heart the gladness which her presence always gave to him. Life could always be noble, he thought, with that beautiful woman in the world. “Yes, Charles,” she answered. “I’ve been with the wounded. They’re better. How are your wounds?” “Better, thanks. They’re always better at night.” She drew up a chair and sat down beside him. “Charles,” she said, “I want you not to brood. Not to grieve. That’s all over, Charles.” “Not the dishonour,” he said. “That will never be over.” “There is no dishonour, Charles. You failed. The only glory is failure. All artists fail. But one sees what they saw. You see that in their failure.” “Ah. Sometimes.” “I see that in yours, Charles.” “Thank you, Olivia.” “I shall always see that, Charles, when I see you.” “My city.” “Yes. Your city, Charles.” “It was for you, Olivia. My city.” “I am proud,” she said humbly. “It failed, Olivia. It’s in ruins. Yonder.” “Charles,” she said, kneeling, taking both his hands, hiding her face against him, “it is in my heart. That city. Our city.” She trembled against him, drawing her breath. He held her with his unhurt arm, waiting till the dear face would lift, pale in that darkness, to the laying of the gold foundation. THE END TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES The Grant Richards edition (London, 1908) was consulted for most of the changes listed below. Minor spelling inconsistencies (_e.g._ alleyway/alley-way, gold dust/gold-dust, etc.) have been preserved. Alterations to the text: Formatting: abandon the use of drop-caps. Punctuation: quotation mark pairings/nestings and missing commas. [Chapter III] Change “Hands up anchor, _bosum_.” to _bosun_. “looking aloft at the boy on the _maintopgallantyard_” to _maintopgallant yard_. “_Whereever_ that vague perfume lingers, something of the old” to _Wherever_. [Chapter V] “We’ll, go on with this at Accomac, Stukeley.” delete first comma. “That man up on the yard there was once a slave in _Virgina_” to _Virginia_. [Chapter VI] (“It’ll annoy old _Brandy-face_,” he thought.) to _Brandyface_. “The long chase-guns were trained _athwart-ships_” to _athwartships_.