"Yes—and you and I—stood by Jerry-Jo McAlpin's bed—you and I! That was his secret."

"Priscilla, what do you mean?"

Then she told him, clinging to him, fearing that he might fall from her hold as she had once fallen from his, on the mountain across the sea.

"And you danced before my eyes as only one woman on earth can dance—and I did not know! Tricked by a name and—and the change in me! You were always the same—the flame-spirit that I first saw—here!"

"And you played—that tune, and you were divinely good; and I—I did not know."

"But we drifted straight to each other, my girl!"

"Only—to part."

"To part? Never! It's past the Dreamer's Rock for us, my sweet, and out to the open sea. We'll slip our moorings to-night, and send word after! I must have you, and at once. I know what it means to see you escaping my hold. Flame-spirits are elusive."

"And—and Margaret?"

"She—needs you. A fortnight ago I saw her, and this is what she said, smiling her old, brave smile: 'I think I could bear it better if her dear, shining head was in sight. Greater love hath no woman! Find her and bring her back!' That's your place, my sweet. Out there where the fight is on. Such as you can show us—that 'tis no fight between men and women, but one against ignorance and tradition. You'll trust yourself to me, dear girl?"



"I did—long ago!"

"To think"—Travers was gaining control of himself; the shock, the readjustment, had been so sudden that sensation returned slowly—"to think, dear blunderer, of your coming among us all, striking your blow, and then rushing to your In-Place! But love is mightier than thou; mightier than all else!"

"Not mightier than honour—such honour as Margaret knows!" Then fiercely: "What right have I to my—joy, when she——"

"She told me that only by your happiness being consummated could she hope for peace."

Travers's voice was low and reverent.

"What—a girl she is!" Priscilla faltered.

"The All Woman."

"Yes, the All Woman."

The sun began to drop behind the tall hemlocks. Priscilla shivered in the arms that held her.

"Little girl, I wish I could wrap you in the old red cape you wore once, before the shrine."

"It is gone now, like the shrine. Oh! my love, my love, to think of the Garden makes me live again." The fancy caught Travers's imagination.

"The Garden!"

'Twas a day for dreamy wandering, now that they had come to a cleared space from which they could see light.

"The Garden, with its flowers and weeds."

"And its men and women!" added Priscilla, her eyes full of gladness. "Oh! long ago, I told Master Farwell that I felt Kenmore was only my stopping-place; I feel it now so surely."

"Yes, my sweet, but you and I will return here to polish our ideals and catch our breaths."

"In the Place Beyond the Winds, dear man?"

"Exactly! Those old Indians had a genius for names."

"And in the Garden—what are we to do?" Priscilla asked, her eyes growing more practical. "They will have none of—Priscilla Glynn, you know. And you, dear heart, what will they do to you, now that you have defied their code?"

"Priscilla Glynn has done her best and is—gone! There will be a Priscilla Travers with many a stern duty before her."

"Yes, but you?"

"I shall try to keep your golden head in sight, little girl! For the rest—I have a small income—my father's. I must tell you about him and my mother, some day; and I shall write—write; and men and women may read what they might not be willing to listen to."

"I see! And oh! how rich and bright the way on ahead looks! Just when I thought the clouds were crushing me, they opened and I saw——"

"What, Priscilla?"

"You!"

"And now," Travers got upon his feet and drew her up; "do you know what is going to happen?"

"Can anything more happen to-day?"

"We are going to Master Farwell's, you and I. We are going to take him with us to the little chapel down the Channel; there we'll leave Priscilla Glenn, and, in her place, bring Priscilla Travers forth."

The colour rose to the thin, radiant face.

"And may we take John Boswell, too?"

"Boswell? Is he here?"

"Yes, with my Master Farwell."

Travers rapidly put loose ends of the past together, then exclaimed:

"God bless him; God bless Master Farwell!"

"I only know"—Priscilla's eyes were dim—"I only know—they are good men—both!"

"Yes, both! And to-night," Travers came back to the present, "I will take my wife away with me on the steamer."

"A poor, vagabond wife. Nothing but a heart full of love—as baggage."

"The Garden is a rich place, my love."

"And one can get so much for so little there." Priscilla meant to hold to her dear old joke.

"And so little—for so much!"

"That's not the language of the Garden, good man!"

It was so easy to play, now that Travers was leading the way from the wrecked shrine.

"You are right, my girl!" Then Travers stopped and faced her, his eyes glowing with love and courage. "And to-morrow—is not yet touched!" he said.

THE END



* * * * *

BOOKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR

Joyce of the North Woods Princess Rags and Tatters A Son of the Hills Janet of the Dunes A Little Dusky Hero Meg and the Others Camp Brave Pine