"Closed in death," said Harry Vine as he laid his hand reverently across the withered lids; "but her eyes must be open now, father, to the truth." There was to be a quiet little dinner at Leslie's about a fortnight later, and after a walk down through the churchyard, the party were going up the steep cliff-path. Leslie and his handsome young wife were on ahead; the old men coming slowly toiling on behind as Harry stopped with Madelaine in the well-known sheltered niche. They stood gazing out at the sea, stretching as it were into infinity, and as they gazed they went on with their conversation, talking calmly of the quaint old lady's prejudices and ways. "Did you hear her last last words?" said Harry gravely. "Yes." The look which accompanied the answer was frank and calm. It seemed to lack emotion, but there was a depth of patient truth and trust therein which told of enduring faith. "She would have me marry soon--some good, true woman, one of the _Haute Noblesse_." "Yes; it would be better so." "I have loved one of the _Haute Noblesse_ for seven years as a weak, foolish boy--seven years as a trusting man--and she has not changed. Maddy, is my reward to come at last?" As Madelaine placed her hands calmly in those extended to her she seemed without emotion still; but there was a joyous light in her brightening eyes, and then a deep flush suffused her cheeks as two words were spoken by one of the trio of old men who had slowly toiled up towards where they stood. "Thank God!" It was George Vine who spoke, and the others seemed to look "_Amen_." THE END.