She broke off. He was looking at her as he had once looked at her before—as though he were trying to pierce down to the uttermost depths of her soul. A look of dawning wonder was in his eyes. "Nora—is it possible——?" She smiled at him triumphantly through the blinding tears. "It is possible; it is true. And even if it were not true, I should hold you back alone—with my own hands. I have been through fire, Wolff. I have grown strong, and my strength is my love for you. Don’t you know that?" "_Kleine Frau_, it is so hard to believe, and yet—yes, I believe I _know_! It has come to me suddenly. It is as though a cloud were lifting. Before, you seemed afar off; a great distance separated us, and when you spoke I could not hear or understand what you were saying to me—what you were trying to tell me. Nora, I can hear and understand. Oh, Nora, how good it is to have you again, my little wife! How good God is!" A change had come over his face. It seemed illuminated from within, so that the shadow of death was forgotten, obliterated by the strength of his joy and love. "Nora, I believe I have been living for this! I have been like Tristan—do you remember?—fighting back death until my Isolde came. I have been waiting and waiting as he waited. There was a great sea between us; but I knew that you would come in time. I saw you in my dreams—at first a long way off, and then nearer and nearer—Nora! I understand everything—you don’t need to tell me: there is a bridge between us; you are quite close to me; you have crossed—my wife!" He tried to lift her hand, as though he would have kissed it, but his strength failed him and he lay still, with his head resting peacefully against her breast. Presently he sighed. And with that sigh something in the quiet room seemed to change. The shadows lifted, and through the open doorway the single glittering star upon the solemn fir-tree shone with a greater brightness. Hildegarde knelt down by the bed and buried her face in her hands. The sounds of her smothered sobs alone broke the peaceful hush about them. But Nora seemed not to hear her. She bent, and her lips rested on the quiet, untroubled forehead. A great calm and thankfulness had come over her. She knew that all was well. Love had pronounced the last triumphant word, and the sea between them had rolled away for ever. PRINTED BY HAZELL, WATSON AND VINEY, LD. LONDON AND AYLESBURY. * * * * * * * * *Mills & Boon’s New Novels* _Crown 8vo, 6s. each._