“Because I didn’t come forward and claim you?” he suggested, finishing the sentence for her. “But your brother made me promise not to speak: he thought it might hinder your career. He told me he did not approve of mixed marriages either, although he has not practised what he preached. Lady Marjorie is a Christian.” “Herbert says now that love is more powerful than race and creed,” the girl said softly. “Love breaks all barriers down.” “Yes, he is right,” her lover rejoined with deepening earnestness. “But there is no barrier of creed ’twixt you and me, now, darling; no barrier of any kind. Did you notice the text of the sermon, to-night, Celia: ‘Neither Jew nor Greek’? Oh, it seemed to me as if the clergyman must have chosen it because he knew we were in the church. ‘Neither Jew nor Greek’ ... united, made one in Christ. No difference between the Jew and the Gentile, for the same God is God of both!” They had arrived at the hotel, and Herbert Karne was looking out for them in the vestibule. Geoffrey’s buoyant manner and Celia’s happy face told him, before he asked, that their meeting had been a satisfactory one. Lady Marjorie looked up from her book with a softened expression in her blue eyes, when they made their appearance at the door of the private drawing-room. “So your visitor has come at last, girlie,” she said, as Celia bent down and kissed her. “I told him that I thought you would give him a hearty welcome. Was I right, Dr. Geoff?” “Yes, quite right,” the young doctor replied, as he gripped her hand. “I can never be sufficiently grateful to you for your kindness, Lady Marjorie.” “You really were the silliest pair of lovers I ever came across,” Marjorie said, as she glanced at them and thought what a well-matched couple they made. “I knew that each of you was just longing for the other; and yet you both held aloof, although there was no cause or just impediment why you should not have come together long ago. So I determined to intervene and make you happy. And, judging by the looks of you both, I think I have succeeded.” “You have, indeed!” rejoined Geoffrey, as he drew his sweetheart closer to him; and Celia, whose heart was too full for words, expressed by her shining eyes, the great happiness which was hers at last. * * * * * On the deck of a channel-steamer bound for Calais stood a young girl, shading her eyes with her hand. She was watching the land as it receded from view, yet with no feeling of regret, for she was making the journey with the one she loved best in the world. Less than twenty-four hours ago she had stood beside him at the altar, and made her marriage vows. The “Voice that breathed o’er Eden” was still ringing in her ears; the crashing chords of the Wedding March seemed interwoven with the throbbing of the ship’s engines; the very air seemed full of the far-off sound of wedding-bells.