They went there. A small, timbered house, one story overhanging another, old, quiet, with the castle soaring above and the bell of the church of the Franciscans ringing near. Within, in a dusky wide room, rose from her book Morgen Fay, jewel-like, rose-like, flame-like. Montjoy, looking, saw nothing that wounded Isabel, nor that wounded the Reality behind the great picture at Silver Cross. THE END End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Silver Cross, by Mary Johnston