"’You?...’ said she at last in a low voice, drawing back. Her hand tightened on the rail. She was regally beautiful. "’For what do you wait?’ I asked, striving to be calm. "She threw down her arms with a violent gesture. ’A word, a message!’ she cried ’Can you tell me nothing? Has he come?’ "’He is far away’ I answered. "She put her hand on mine. ’You are his friend’ said she ’I do not blame you now; I see that it rested with him alone. But keep nothing from me. Has he sent no word by you?’ "’He does not know that I have come’ said I. "’Ah, I have waited, night upon night!’ she cried ’Whenever ships stop, I have waited here—in darkness, in rain—always!—thinking to see you, or that he might come, or that a message.... Will he not come? Tell me!’ "’He will never come’ said I. "She drew her hand away, and stepped back sharply. Her voice rang out, fierce with hate. ’He was a child. The woman took him! Tell me, why?...’ "’The woman was his wife’ I felt obliged to say. "’Enough!’ she cried. Her form became rigid, as if every muscle were stretched to the point of breaking. Suddenly she relaxed, and turned to me for the last time. "’He is happy?’ she asked quietly. "I nodded—for the moment I couldn’t speak. "’She loves him?’ "Again I nodded. "Her voice caught at the next question, but rallied bravely. ’He loves her?—you are sure?...’ "I cursed myself for having come—but there could be no kindness in sustaining the delusion. ’I am certain’ I answered ’He will never tire of her. He loves her better than all the world’ "She gave a quick cry, like one who has received a mortal wound. Before I could recognize the significance of the moment, she had moved swiftly into the open. For an instant she stood with arms outstretched; but not until the dagger flashed above her breast did I see what she held in her hand. When I reached her she’d fallen in the rank grass, and life had gone. "And that’s the way I left her, a figure very beautiful, crouching low as if to spring, the tall grass closing over her, the mystery dissolved in mystery. Aha!—these high spirits, this gruelling difficulty of life. But she, you’ll note, had solved the difficulty, had met it boldly and triumphantly, with the master stroke that levels fate itself to the dust. As for the others, they had solved it, too, though not so keenly, had triumphed, though not so magnificently—had gone away, had found their home, were happy, for a little longer.... What did it signify?" PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY THE NORTHUMBERLAND PRESS LTD. WATERLOO HOUSE, THORNTON STREET, NEWCASTLE-UPON-TYNE