Margaret stirred in her sleep, and with a tremulous sigh wakened. Her fingers touched cool, white linen, creased still where the folds had been, faintly scented from sprays of lavender. She saw one ray of sunlight level through soft gloom, and golden motes danced therein like fairies. Above swung rose-silk curtains swaying ever so gently to a ship's motion, and wonder dawned in her eyes. Her armour was gone, her dripping sword, the air of flame, the sea of blood, the roar of battle--all gone like a bad dream. She reached out her right hand, and thrust it softly, quivering at the touch, against a man's rough hair. The man was kneeling by the bed, his face buried in the white coverlet, his dark hair streaked with silver, and his great, strong arms stretched out as though to guard her even in her dreams. Of dull stained gold, was his rough shirt of mail, torn, ragged, bloody; then he lifted his head and she saw the grave majesty of his face. Again her hand went out groping until her uncertain fingers touched him--and he was real! "The everlasting life," she whispered. And he answered: "It is everlasting Love." And then the passion leapt into his eyes. "Love me," he cried. "Love me! Love me, Margaret!" She thrust the palm of her hand against his mouth. "Afterwards--but this is the Earth, and so I've got to die. Oh save me, Brand," she cried. "I can't die, now! I can't die! How can I die now! And yet--must I not lead my people on the Other Side, ride with my Guard yonder?" Her head fell wearily, and her eyes closed. "It is all well--you were true to me." He clutched her hand and kissed it passionately. "Margaret! Margaret! You shall not die!" "The Palace rocks," she muttered, "like a ship. It was only a little wound, but my neck throbs, and with the daybreak--will it hurt much, Brand, will it be worse than a wound, this death?" "Margaret, you live, England is saved! Don't you hear, Margaret, can't you understand, I have destroyed the Russian Fleet, I have swept away the armies, delivered London, crushed the League! Oh, love me a little, Margaret, just a little. I have waited so long, and fought so hard for love." "Give me some wine--I can't understand all at once. Give me a little wine." He brought a glass of wine, and she, sitting up in bed, made him share with her. The level sun rays shining on her face welcomed a delicate flush of her returning strength, and made her hair an aureole of glory. Then, looking full into the light-- "I never thought," said Margaret, reverently, "that I should see the sunset." "It is the sunrise," he answered. "The sunrise?" "Yes." "Where are we? Not in my Palace?"