“I promise. And now, Doll, there is one more thing. It is somehow fixed in my mind that my fate and that woman’s are intertwined. I believe that what we are now passing through is but a single phase of interwoven existence; that we have, perhaps, already passed through many stages, and that many higher stages and developments await us. Of course, it may be fantasy, but at any rate I believe it. The question is, do you care to link your life with that of a man who holds such a belief?” “Ernest, I daresay your belief is a true one, at any rate for you who believe it, for it seems probable that as we sow so shall we reap, as we spiritually imagine so shall we spiritually inherit, since causes must in time produce effects. These beliefs are not implanted in our hearts for nothing, and surely in the wide heavens there is room for the realisation of them all. But I too have my beliefs, and one of them is, that in God’s great Hereafter every loving and desiring soul will be with the soul thus loved and desired. For him or her, at any rate, the other will be there, forming a part of his or her life, though, perhaps, it may elsewhere and with others also be pursuing its own desires and satisfying its own aspirations. So you see, Ernest, your beliefs will not interfere with mine, nor shall I be afraid of losing you in another place. “And now, Ernest, my heart’s love, take my hand, and let me lead you home; take my hand, as you have taken my heart, and never leave go of it again till at last I die.” And so hand in hand they went home together, through the lights and shadows of the twilight. CHAPTER VII. MAZOOKU’S FAREWELL Dorothy and Ernest got back to Dum’s Ness just in time to dress for dinner, for since Ernest and Jeremy had come back, Dorothy, whose will in that house was law, had instituted late dinner. The dinner passed over as usual, Dorothy sitting between Ernest and her grandfather, and attending to the wants of those two unfortunates, both of whom would have found it rather difficult to get through their meal without her gentle, unobtrusive help. But when dinner was over and the cloth removed, and Grice had placed the wine upon the table and withdrawn, an unusual thing happened. Ernest asked Dorothy to fill his glass with port, and when she had done so he said: “Uncle and Jeremy, I am going to ask you to drink a health.” The old man looked up sharply. “What is it, Ernest, my boy?” As for Dorothy, she blushed a rosy red, guessing what was coming, and not knowing whether to be pleased or angry. “It is this, uncle—it is the health of my future wife, Dorothy.” Then came a silence of astonishment. Mr. Cardus broke it: