“It need not have, Thomas; any more than when I stood looking down into that drawer when you shewed me my old suits, folded and laid away by careful hands.” He stood, looking upwards. A shaft of sunlight, piercing through the pines, fell on his face. “Neither my wife nor I are in that grave. There is no death, old friend. That which we call death is fuller life—life more abundant.” “Speaking of clothes, Sir Nigel, and such like, her ladyship gave me orders to pack everything in the dressing-room in two trunks and keep them in our quarters until I knew where to send them. Her ladyship wished you to have the things she had so treasured. None ever went into that room, save her ladyship and myself; or Mary, if our lady was away. So no questions will be asked when they find it bare. Her ladyship also gave me a list of furniture she has left to me and Mary, meaning it for you; her couch in the Oak Room, your pipe-rack, her writing-table, her easy chair, and a few other things. She dictated the paper and signed it that morning while the doctor was with her; but she told me, by word of mouth, they were left to us, for you.” So this was her way of making sure that he should have a home, filled with sweet memories of her. Oh, Miriam, belovèd! Now it was for him to find that home, for himself and these two faithful souls. “Very well, Thomas. They can come with you and Mary when the home is ready. I will try for a jolly little house, not a flat. It will be more home-like. Whatever she wished, or said, or did, is right. Only be careful no questions are asked. You know what people would say if they knew of the happenings of this past week? They would say that she, and you, and I, were mad.” The old man smiled. “It don’t matter what folk say, Sir Nigel. All that really matters, is what our own hearts know; and that her ladyship died happy.” As Luke Sparrow walked on alone, at a rapid pace, through the pine woods, he repeated those words to himself. “All that really matters is what our own hearts know.” Aye, how true! That, and one thing more. “Thou knowest, Lord, the secrets of our hearts.” SCENE XVIII THE HOME SHE PLANNED _Three months later_ Luke Sparrow sat at his writing-table reading “proof.” The cosy study was filled with books and littered with the work he loved. Presently, with noiseless step, entered old Thomas; turned on the lights, made the fire blaze, stealthily tidied the room, moved a small table to the couch, and brought in the tea. “Take it while it’s hot, Sir Nigel.” “All right, Thomas.” “Mary has made a dish of those bannocks, Sir Nigel, of which you and her ladyship used to be so fond.”