"We have all come round!" cried Harry. "He and you and I! Oh! this is the beginning of the world for all of us--and I am forty-five! Will you write to me later in the day? I cannot get down until to-night. My father is very ill--I must be here. But write to me--a long letter--it will be as though you were talking." She laughed. "Yes, I'll write," she cried; then she looked at him again--"I love you," she said, as though she were reciting her faith, "because you are good, because you are strong, because--oh! for no reason at all--just because you are you." For a moment they watched the sea, and then again he took her in his arms and held her as though he would never let her go--then she vanished through the trees. The house was waking into life as he re-entered it; servants were astir at an early hour: he had been away such a little time, but the world was another place. Every detail of the house--the stairs, the hall, the windows, the clocks, the pot-pourri scent from the bowls of dried roses, the dance of the dust in the light of the rising sun, was presented to him now with a new meaning. He was glad that she had stayed with him such a little while--it made it more precious, her coming with the shadows in that grey of breaking skies and a mysterious plunging sea, and then vanishing with the rising sun. Oh! they would come down to earth soon enough!--let him keep that kiss, those few words, her last smile as she vanished into the wood, like the visible signs of the other world that had, at last, been allowed to him. The vision of the Grail had passed from his eyes, but the memory of it was to be his most sacred possession. He went to his room, had a bath, and then returned to his father; of course, he could not sleep. Clare, Garrett, and Robin met at breakfast with the sense of approaching calamity heavy upon them. As far as Sir Jeremy himself was concerned there was little real regret--how could there be? Of course, there was the sentiment of separation, the breaking of a great many ties that had been strong and traditional; but it was better that the old man should go--of that there was no question. Sir Jeremy himself would rather. No, "Le roi est mort" was easy enough to say, but how "Vive le roi" stuck in their throats. Garrett hinted at a wretched night, and quoted Benham on the dangers of an arm-chair at night-time. "Of course, one had been thinking," he said vaguely, after a melancholy survey of eggs and bacon that developed into resignation over dry toast--"there was a good deal to think about. But I certainly had intended to go to bed--I can't imagine what----"