The two knew that next day they would reach the town and the prison from which, six years and more ago, they had fled away. There they would be separated.... Probably they would die together—would be brought forth together to die—might then each reach the other’s hand, might clasp it until nearly the last. But not again in this life would they be together like this, alone together, free, shut from the world.... To-night, at first, all things flowed away save the fact that they loved, save human passion and sorrow and clinging. They lay in the space left by the heaped firewood, in the intense dark, and they held each other in their arms, close, close! as if to defy all parting, and there were broken words and sighs and tears. The last night—the last night— The higher mood returned, though slowly, slowly. With the bending of the night toward dawn, it was here. They lay with clasped hands, and when they spoke they spoke of love. All things else flowed away, or did not flow away, for it was now as though love tinted all, made the vast whole warm and vital.... They spoke of their child, and of their island life and home; they spoke of the old chief. They spoke of people they had known and loved—of old Roger Heron, of Master Hardwick—of many, of all people. The draff and dross, the crooked and bent, all came into the glow, the solvent. Love—love—love!... Love took this form and took that form, and now it flew with these wings, and now with other wings—and it was love of the body and the earth and all nature, and it was love of wisdom—love of knowledge—love of the search—love of love—love of truth! It was love that was not afraid—that rose on splendid wings—that outwatched the night and saw the morning coming.... Outside began, faintly, a stirring. A cock crew and was answered. A dog barked—the cock-crow came again. A grey light stole in at the keyhole and under the door of the windowless place they were in. It strengthened until they could make out each other’s face and form. The dog barked again, men’s voices were heard. Joan and Aderhold rose to their knees, to their feet, steadying each other, holding by the firewood. The place, through the night, had had the chill of the sepulchre. They knew it to be their last moment together; hereafter, to the end, there would be others by. They stood locked in each other’s arms, their lips meeting.... Steps were heard without and the fall of the chain from across the door. They released each other, they stood apart. The door swung open, light rushed in. “Come forth, you wicked ones! Time to ride on—and to-night we’ll lodge you in the nest you flew from!”