“No, I do not think he really deceived me long—not my innermost self of all. But I was very self-willed. I wanted to judge for myself, and I could not judge him rightly. I believed him. I did not want to be unjust—and he deceived me.” Randolph smiled and laid his hand caressingly upon her shoulder. She looked up with a smile. “That is right, Monica. You must put away these sad, wistful looks. We must not let this evening’s happiness be marred by any doubts and fears. You have your husband again. Is not that enough?” She turned and laid her head against his shoulder. His arm was fast about her in a moment. She drew a long breath, almost like a sigh. “Randolph, I think that moments like this must be a foretaste of heaven.” He kissed her, and she added, low and dreamily: “Only there, there will be no fear of parting. Death could not part us there.” “Death could not sunder our hearts even here, my Monica,” said Randolph. “Some love is for eternity.” “Yes,” she answered, looking out over the wide sea with a deep smile, that seemed as if it were reading the future in the vast, heaving expanse of moon-lit water. “Our love is like that—not for time alone, but for eternity.” He caught the gravity of her mood. Some subtle sympathy drew them ever closer and more close together. “And so,” he added gravely and tenderly, “we need fear nothing; for nothing can alter that one great thing. Nothing can change our love. We belong to one another always—always.” She stood very still and quiet. “Yes,” she said, “for ever and ever. Randolph, if we could both die to-night I think it would be a happy thing for us.” “Why?” “Because then there would be no parting to fear.” “And now?” “Now I do fear it. I fear it without knowing why. _He_ will part us if he can.” Randolph strained his wife close to his heart. “_If_ he can! Monica, look up; put away these idle fears, my love. Can I not take care of you and of myself? Let us put him for ever out of our lives.” “Ah! if only we could!” breathed Monica. [Illustration] CHAPTER THE EIGHTEENTH. A SHADOW. The days that followed were very full of happiness and peace for Monica and her husband. They were alone together in the dim old castle, far away from the busy whirl of life they had so gladly left behind, free to be with each other every moment of the flying hours, learning to know and to love one another with a more perfect comprehending love with each succeeding day.