Before her stood Jack with a little wicker-work cage in his hand, and in it two choughs. She saw them not, nor the cage, only Jack. She sprang to her feet with a cry, and in a moment was in his arms, and the cage and birds had fallen. Not a word was spoken. Jack held the girl to his heart and felt how she shivered as with an ague, that she could not utter a word, could only sob as though her heart were broken. In a German tale a monk who doubted about immortality listened to the song of a bird, entranced, and when roused found that a hundred years had passed as a watch in the night. It was the reverse with Winefred. As her heart broke forth into song――the new strange song of love――it was as though that one moment were expanded into a hundred days. With a flash that filled her at once with ecstasy and with awe came the revelation that she loved Jack. All her roughness and rudeness towards him had been due to misconception of the state of her own feelings. Throughout she had loved him, but had not known it, and had resisted; misunderstanding the movements of her heart had given to them a perverse bias. 'So,' said he, 'we have found each other at last.' 'Oh, God forgive me! God in his pity pardon me!' she sobbed. 'Oh, the anguish that I have endured! Jack, if you had perished, been dashed to pieces, I would have cast myself over as well.' His breast swelled. He looked around. The vapours of morning had drifted away. Whither they were gone he knew not――only that gone they were. The sun shone upon Winefred and himself from out of a blue morning sky full of promise. And she was happy resting in his arms, too humbled to lift up her head, quivering in every limb, fluttering in every nerve. The conflict of emotions was almost unendurable. After a while she drew herself back, and with hands extended, and with tear-stained cheeks, she said: 'Jack, can you ever forgive me?' He caught her to him again. When one has endured a spasm of exquisite pain but a single thing is possible, to rest, breathe, and recover force――though that may be merely to undergo another throe. So she rested in his arms, panting, rallying, and yet with the prospect before her of renewed pain. 'Jack,' she sobbed, 'I have spoken cruel words to you.' He kissed her. 'And I might have caused your death.' 'I forget everything now. I would do more. I would do anything for you.' 'I could die now you have forgiven me,' said she, disengaging herself and sinking on a bank of turf. 'No, Winefred,' he said, 'this is not a moment in which to speak of death, but rather of life――ay, and of two lives flowing into one.' She shook her head. 'I can never forgive myself.' 'See, Winefred, I have had bitter thoughts of you, but they have all passed away like the morning mist. We were both entangled in a fog of misunderstandings. Now the sun is out and shines on both our heads and down into both our hearts, and all within as without is light.'