On and on went the haunting waltz-refrain, now near, now far, now summoning, now eluding. She stood gripping the curtain till she could bear it no longer, and then with a great sob she mustered her resolution; she stepped out upon the verandah, and passed down between shrivelled trailing roses to the garden below.

The tune ceased quite suddenly, and she found herself moving through a silence that could be felt. But she would not turn back then. She would not let herself be discouraged. She had been frightened so often when there had been no need for fear.

On she pressed to the end of the path till she stood by the high fence that bordered the road. She could see no one. The garden lay absolutely deserted. She paused, hesitating, bewildered.

At the same instant from the other side of the fence, almost as if rising from the ground at her feet, a careless voice began to hum—a cracked, tuneless, unmistakable voice, that sent the blood to her heart with a force that nearly suffocated her.

"Nick!" she said, almost in a whisper.

He did not hear her evidently. His humming continued with unabated liveliness.

"Nick!" she said again.

Still no result. There was nothing in the least dramatic in the situation. It might almost have been described as ludicrous, but the white-faced woman in the compound did not find it so.

She waited till he had come to a suitable stopping place, and then, before he could renew the melody, she rapped with nervous force upon the fence.

There fell a most unexpected silence.

She broke it with words imploring, almost agonised. "Nick! Nick! Come and speak to me—for Heaven's sake!"

His flippant voice greeted her at once in a tone of cheerful inquiry. "That you, Muriel?"

Her agitation began to subside of itself. Nothing could have been more casual than his question. "Yes," she said in reply. "Why are you out there? Why don't you come in?"

"My dear girl,—at this hour!" There was shocked reproof in the ejaculation. Nick was evidently scandalised at the suggestion.

Muriel lost her patience forthwith. Was it for this that she had spent all those miserable hours of fruitless heart-searching? His trifling was worse than ridiculous. It was insufferable.

"You are to come in at once," she said, in a tone of authority.

"What for?" said Nick.

"Because—because—" She hesitated, and stopped, her face burning.

"Because—" said Nick encouragingly.

"Oh, don't be absurd!" she exclaimed in desperation. "How can I possibly talk to you there?"

"It depends upon what you want to say," said Nick. "If it is something particularly private—" He paused.

"Well?" she said.

"You can always come to me, you know," he pointed out. "But I shouldn't do that, if I were you. It would be neither dignified nor proper. And a girl in your position, dearest Muriel, cannot be too discreet. It is the greatest mistake in the world to act upon impulse. Let me entreat you to do nothing headlong. Take another year or so to think things over. There are so many nice men to choose from, and this absurd infatuation of yours cannot possibly last."

"Don't, Nick!" Muriel's voice held a curious mixture of mirth and sadness. "It—it isn't a bit funny to talk like that. It isn't even particularly kind."

"Ye gods!" said Nick. "Who wants to be kind?"

"Not you, evidently," she told him with a hint of bitterness. "You only aim at being intelligent."

"Well, you'll admit I hit the mark sometimes," he rejoined. "I'm like a rat, eh? Clever but loathsome."

She uttered a quivering laugh. "No, you are much more like an eagle, waiting to strike. Why don't you, I wonder, and—and take what you want?"

Nick's answering laugh had a mocking note in it. "Oh, I can play Animal Grab as well as anybody—better than most," he said modestly. "But I don't chance to regard this as a suitable occasion for displaying my skill. Uninteresting for you, of course, but then you are fond of running away when there is no one after you. It's been your favourite pastime for almost as long as I have known you."

The sudden silence with which this airy remark was received had in it something tragic. Muriel had sunk down on a garden-bench close at hand, lacking the strength to go away. It was exactly what she had expected. He meant to take his revenge in his own peculiar fashion. She had laid herself open to this, and mercilessly, unerringly, he had availed himself of the opportunity to wound. She might have known! She might have known! Had he not done it again and again? Oh, she had been a fool—a fool—to call him back!

Through the wild hurry of her thoughts his voice pierced once more. It had an odd inflection that was curiously like a note of concern.

"I say, Muriel, are you crying?"

"Crying!" She pulled herself together hastily. "No! Why should I?"

"I can tell you why you shouldn't," he answered whimsically. "No one ever ought to cry before breakfast. It's shocking for the appetite and may ruin the complexion for the rest of the day. Besides,—you've nothing to cry for."

"Oh, don't be absurd!" she flung back again almost fiercely. "I'm not crying!"

"Quite sure?" said Nick.

"Absolutely certain," she declared.

"All right then," he rejoined. "That being so, you had better dry your eyes very carefully, for I am coming to see for myself."



CHAPTER LIV

SURRENDER

She awaited him still sitting on the bench and striving vainly to quiet her thumping heart. She heard him come lightly up behind her, but she did not turn her head though she had no tears to conceal. She was possessed by an insane desire to spring up and flee. It took all her resolution to remain where she was.

And so Nick drew near unwelcomed—a lithe, alert figure in European attire, bare-headed, eager-faced. He was smiling to himself as he came, but when he reached her the smile was gone.

He bent and looked into her white, downcast face; then laid his hand upon her shoulder.

"But Muriel—" he said.

And that was all. Yet Muriel suddenly hid her face and wept.

He did not attempt to restrain her. Perhaps he realised that tears such as those must have their way. But the touch of his hand was in some fashion soothing. It stilled the tempest within her, comforting her inexplicably.

She reached up at last, and drew it down between her own, holding it fast.

"I'm such a fool, Nick," she whispered shakily. "You—you must try to bear with me."

She felt his fingers close and gradually tighten upon her own until their grip was actual pain.

"Haven't I borne with you long enough?" he said. "Can't you come to the point?"

She shook her head slightly. Her trembling had not wholly ceased. She was not—even yet she was not—wholly sure of him.

"Afraid?" he questioned.

And she answered him meekly, with bowed head. "Yes, Nick; afraid."

"Don't you think you might look me in the face if you tried very hard?" he suggested.

"No, Nick." She almost shrank at the bare thought.

"Oh, but you haven't tried," he said.

His voice sounded very close. She knew he was bending down. She even fancied she could feel his breath upon her neck.

Her head sank a little lower. "Don't!" she whispered, with a sob.

"What are you afraid of?" he said. "You weren't afraid to send me a message. You weren't afraid to save my life last night. What is it frightens you?"

She could not tell him. Only her panic was very real. It shook her from head to foot. A fierce struggle was going on within her,—the last bitter conflict between her love and her fear. It tore her in all directions. She felt as if it would drive her mad. But through it all she still clung desperately to the bony hand that grasped her own. It seemed to sustain her, to hold her up, through all her chaos of doubt, of irresolution, of miserable, overmastering dread.

"What is it frightens you?" he said again. "Why won't you look at me? There is nothing whatever to make you afraid!"

He spoke softly, as though he were addressing a scared child. But still she was afraid, afraid of the very impulse that urged her, horribly afraid of meeting the darting scrutiny of his eyes.

He waited for a little in silence; then suddenly with a sharp sigh he straightened himself. "You don't know your own mind yet," he said. "And I can't help you to know it. I had better go."

He would have withdrawn his hand with the words, but she held it fast.

"No, Nick, no! It isn't that," she told him tremulously. "I know what I want—perfectly well. But—but—I can't put it into words. I can't! I can't!"

"Is that it?" said Nick. His manner changed completely. He bent down again. She heard the old note of banter in his voice, but mingled with it was a tenderness so utter that she scarcely recognised it. "Then, my dear girl, in Heaven's name, don't try! Words were not made for such an occasion as this. They are clumsy tools at the best of times. You can make me understand without words. I'm horribly intelligent, as you remarked just now."

Her heart leapt to the rapid assurance. Was it so difficult to tell him after all? Surely she could find a way!

The tumult of her emotions swelled to sudden uproar, thunderous, all-possessing, overwhelming, so that she gasped and gasped again for breath. And then all in a moment she knew that the conflict was over. She was as a diver, hurling with headlong velocity from dizzy height into deep waters, and she rejoiced—she exulted—in that mad rush into depth.

With a quivering laugh she moved. She loosened her convulsive clasp upon his hand, turned it upwards, and stooping low, she pressed her lips closely, passionately, lingeringly, upon his open palm. She had found a way.

He started sharply at her action; he almost winced. Then, "Muriel!" he exclaimed in a voice that broke, and threw himself on his knees beside her, holding her fast in a silence so sudden and so tense that she also was awed into a great stillness.

Yet, after a little, though his face was pressed against her so that she could not see it or even vaguely guess his mood, she found strength to speak.

"I can tell you what I want now, Nick," she whispered. "Shall I tell you?"

He did not answer, did not so much as breathe. But yet she knew no fear or hesitancy. Her eyes were opened, and her tongue loosed. Words came easily to her now, more easily than they had ever come before.

"I want to be married—soon, very soon," she told him softly. "And then I want you to take me away with you into Nepal, as you planned ever so long ago. And let us be alone together in the mountains—quite alone as we were before. Will you, Nick? Will you?"

But again he had no answer for her. He did not seem able to reply. His head still lay against her shoulder. His arm was still tense about her. She fell silent, waiting for him.

At last he drew a deep breath that seemed to burst upwards from the very heart of him, and lifted his face with a jerk.

"My God!" he said. "Is it true?"

His voice was oddly uneven; he seemed to produce it with difficulty. But having broken the spell that bound him, he managed after a moment to continue.

"Are you quite sure you want to marry me,—quite sure that to-morrow you won't be scared out of your wits at the bare idea? Have you left off being afraid of me? Do you mean me really to take you at your word?"

"If you will, Nick," she answered humbly.

"If I will!" he echoed, with sudden passion. "I warn you, Muriel, you are putting yourself irrevocably in my power, and you will never break away again. You may come to loathe me with your whole soul, but I shall never let you go. Have you realised that? If I take you now, I take you for all time."

He spoke almost with violence, and, having spoken, drew back from her abruptly, as though he could not wholly trust himself.

But nothing could dismay her now. She had fought her last battle, had made the final surrender. Her fear was dead. She stretched out her hands to him with unfaltering confidence.

"Take me then, Nick," she said.

He took the extended hands with quick decision, first one and then the other, and laid them on his shoulders.

"Now look at me," he said.

She hesitated, though not as one afraid.

"Look at me, Muriel!" he insisted.

Then, as she kept her eyes downcast, he put his hand under her chin and compelled her.

She yielded with a little quivering murmur of protest, and so for the first time in her life she deliberately met his look, encountering eyes so wide and so piercingly blue that she had a moment's bewildered feeling of uncertainty, as though she had looked into the eyes of a stranger. Then the colourless lashes descended again and veiled them as of old. He blinked with his usual disconcerting rapidity and set her free.

"Yes," he said. "You've left off cheating. And if you really care to marry me—what's left of me—it's a precious poor bargain, but—I am yours."

His voice cracked a little. She fancied he was going to laugh. And then, while she was still wondering, his arm went round her again and drew her closely to him. She was conscious of a sudden, leaping flame behind the pale lashes, felt his hold tighten while the wrinkled face drew near,—and with a sob she clasped her arms about his neck and turned her lips to his.



CHAPTER LV

OMNIA VINCIT AMOR

"Funny, wasn't it?" said Nick, jingling a small handful of coins in front of his fiancee. "Quite a harvest in its way! I had no idea you were so charitable."

She caught his wrist. "You have no right to a single one of them. You obtained them under false pretences. What in the world induced you to do such a thing?"

Nick's hand closed firmly upon the spoil. "It was a sheer, heaven-sent inspiration," he declared. "Care to know how it came to me? It happened one night in the Indian Ocean when I was on the way out with Daisy. I was lying on deck under the stars, thinking of you, and the whole idea came to me ready-made. I didn't attempt to shape it; it shaped itself. I was hungering for the sight of you, and I knew you would never find me out. You never would have, either, if I hadn't had Daisy's message. I was just going to quit my lonely vigil when it reached me. But that altered my plans, and I decided with Fraser's assistance to face it out. You knew he was in the secret, of course? He is in every secret, that chap. As soon as I heard of Lady Bassett's ingenious little fiction about the Buddhist monastery, I was ready to take the wan path. But you were invisible, you know. I had to wait till you emerged. Then came last night's episode, and I had to take to my heels. I couldn't face a public exposure, and it wouldn't have been particularly pleasant for you, either. So now you have the whole touching story, and I think you needn't grudge me a rupee and a few annas as a reward for my devotion."

Muriel laughed rather tremulously. "I would have given you something better worth having—if I had known."

"Never too late," said Nick philosophically. "You can begin at once if you like. Let me have your hand. Hold it steady, my dear girl. Remember my limitations. You won't refuse any longer to wear my ring?"

"I will wear it gladly," she told him, as he fitted it back upon her finger. "I shall never part with it again."

Her eyes were full of tears, but she would not let them fall, and Nick was too intent upon what he was doing to notice.

"That imp Olga nearly broke her poor little heart when she gave it back to me," he said. "I think I shall have to send her a cable. What shall I say? OMNIA VINCIT AMOR? She is old enough to know what that means. And if I add, 'From Muriel and Nick,' she will understand. A pity she can't come to our wedding! I'd sooner have seen her jolly little phiz than all Lady Bassett's wreathed smiles. She is sure to smile, you know. She always does when she sees me." He broke off with a hideous grimace.

"Don't, Nick!" Muriel's voice trembled a little. "Why does she hate you so?"

"Can't imagine," grinned Nick. "It's a way some people have. Perhaps she will end by falling in love with me. Who knows?"

"Don't be horrid, Nick! Why won't you tell me?" Muriel laid a pleading hand upon his.

He caught it to his lips. "I can't tell you, darling, seeing she is a woman. An unpleasant adventure befell her once for which I was partially responsible. And she has hated me with most unseemly vehemence ever since."

A light began to break upon Muriel. "Was it something that happened on board ship?" she hazarded.

He gave her a sharp look. "Who told you that?"

She flushed a little. "Bobby Fraser. He didn't mention her name, of course. We—we were talking about you once."

Nick laughed aloud. "Only once?"

Her colour deepened. "You are positively ridiculous. Still, I wish it hadn't been Lady Bassett, Nick. I don't like to feel she hates you like that."

"It doesn't hurt me in the least," Nick declared. "Her poison-fang is extracted so far as I am concerned. She could only poison me through you. I always knew I had her to thank for what happened at Simla."

"Oh, but not her alone," Muriel said quickly. "You mustn't blame her only for that. I was prejudiced against you by—other things."

"I know all about it," said Nick. He was holding her hand in his, moving it hither and thither to catch the gleam of the rubies upon it. "You were a poor little scared rabbit fleeing from a hideous monster of destruction. You began to run that last night at Wara when I made you drink that filthy draught, and you have hardly stopped yet. I don't suppose it ever occurred to you that I would rather have died in torment than have done it." He broke into a sudden laugh. "But you needn't be afraid that I shall ever do it again. I can't do much to any one with only one arm, can I? You witnessed my futility last night. There's a grain of comfort in that, eh, darling?"

"Nick, don't, don't!" She turned to him impulsively and laid her cheek against his shoulder. "You—you don't know how you hurt me!"

"My dear girl, what's the matter?" said Nick. "I was only trying to draw your attention to my good points—such as they are."

"Don't!" she said again, in a choked voice. "It's more than I can bear. You would never have lost your arm but for me."

"Oh, rats!" said Nick, holding her closely. "Whoever told you that—"

"It was Dr. Jim."

"Well, Jim's an ass, and I shall tell him so. There, don't fret, darling. It isn't worth it. I could wish it hadn't happened for your sake, but I don't care a rap for my own."

"You are not to care for mine," she whispered. "I shall only love you the better for it."

"Then it will be a blessing to me after all," said Nick cheerily. "Do you know what we are going to do as soon as we are married, sweetheart? We are going to climb the highest mountain in the world, to see the sun rise, and to thank God."

She turned her face upwards with a quivering smile. "Let us be married soon then, Nick."

"At once," said Nick promptly. "Come along and tell Sir Reginald. He must be out of bed by this time. If he isn't I think the occasion almost justifies us in knocking him up."

They found Sir Reginald already upon the verandah, drinking his early coffee, and to Muriel's dismay he was not alone. It was later than she had imagined, and Colonel Cathcart and Bobby Fraser had both dropped in for a gossip, and were seated with him at the table smoking.

As she and Nick approached, Lady Bassett herself emerged through an open window behind the three men.

Nick began to chuckle. This was the sort of situation that appealed to his sense of humour. He began to chant an old-world ditty under his breath with appropriate words.

"Oh, dear, what will the Bassett say?"

Muriel uttered a short, hysterical laugh, and instantly they were discovered.

"Now what are you going to do?" said Nick.

"I don't know," she responded hurriedly. "Run away, I think."

"Not you," said Nick, grasping her hand very firmly. "You are going to face the music with me."

She gave in, half laughing, half protesting, and he led her up the steps with considerable pomp.

She need not have been so painfully embarrassed, for every one, with the exception of Bobby Fraser, looked at Nick, and Nick only, in speechless amazement, as though he had just returned from the dead.

Nick was sublimely equal to the occasion. He came to a standstill by the table, executed an elaborate bow in Lady Bassett's direction, then turned briskly to Sir Reginald.

"After two years' deliberation," he announced, "we have decided to settle our differences by getting married, and we are hoping, sir, that you will bestow your blessing upon our union."

"My good fellow!" gasped Sir Reginald. "This is a very great surprise!"

"Yes, I know," said Nick. "It was to me, too. But—though fully sensible of my unworthiness—I shall do my best to deserve the very high honour that has been done me. And I hope we may count upon your approval and support."

Again his bow included Lady Bassett. There was a mocking glint in the glance he threw her.

She came forward as though in answer to a challenge, her face unwontedly flushed. "This is indeed unexpected!" she declared, extending her hand. "How do you do, Captain Ratcliffe? You will understand our surprise when I tell you that some one was saying only the other day that you had entered a Tibetan monastery."

"Some one must have been telling a lie, dear Lady Bassett," said Nick. "I am sorry if it caused you any uneasiness on my account. I should certainly never have taken such a serious step without letting you know. I trust that my projected marriage will have a less disturbing effect."

Lady Bassett smiled her crooked smile, and raised one eyebrow. "Oh, I shall not be anxious on your account," she assured him playfully.

"Quite right, Lady Bassett," broke in Colonel Cathcart. "He'll hold his own, wherever he is. I always said so when he was in the Service."

"And a little over probably," put in Bobby Fraser. "Miss Roscoe, if you ever find him hard to manage, you send for me."

Muriel, from the shelter of Sir Reginald's arm, looked across at the speaker with a smile of unwonted confidence.

"Thank you all the same," she responded, "but I don't expect any difficulties in that respect."

"She is far more likely to fight my battles for me," remarked Nick complacently, "seeing my own fighting days are over."

"And what have you been doing with yourself all this time?" demanded Sir Reginald suddenly. "You have been singularly unobtrusive. What have you been doing?"

Nick's answering grin was one of sheer exuberance of spirit. "I've just been marking time, sir, that's all," he replied enigmatically. "A monotonous business for every one concerned, but it seems to have served its purpose."

Sir Reginald grunted a little, and looked uncomfortably at his wife's twisted smile. "And now you want to get married, do you?" he said.

"At once," said Nick.

"Well, well," said Sir Reginald, beginning to smile himself. "All's well that ends well, and Muriel is old enough to please herself. Mind you are good to her, that's all. And I wish you both every happiness."

"So do I," said Bobby Fraser heartily. "And look here, you jack-in-the-box, if you're wanting a best man to push you through, I'll undertake the job. It's a capacity in which I have often made myself useful."

"Right O!" laughed Nick. "But you won't find I want much pushing, old chap. I'm on my way to the top crag of Everest already."

"Ah, Captain Ratcliffe, be careful!" murmured Lady Bassett. "Do not soar too high!"

He bowed to her a third time, still with his baffling smile. "Thanks, dear Lady Bassett!" he said lightly. "But you need have no misgivings. Forewarned is forearmed, they say. And on this occasion, at least, I am wise—in time."

"And dear Muriel too, I wonder?" smiled Lady Bassett.

"And dear Muriel too," smiled Nick.



CHAPTER LVI

THE EAGLE SOARS

Night and a running stream—a soft gurgle of sound that was like a lullaby. Within the tent the quiet breathing of a man asleep; standing in the entrance—a woman.

There was a faint quiver in the air as of something coming from afar, a hushed expectancy of something great. A chill breath came off the snows, hovering secretly above the ice-cold water. The stars glittered like loose-hung jewels upon a sable robe.

Ah, that flash as of a sword across the sky! A meteor had fallen among the mountains. It was almost like a signal in the heavens—herald of the coming wonder of the dawn.

Softly the watcher turned inwards, and at once a gay, cracked voice spoke out of the darkness.

"Hullo, darling! Up and watching already! Ye gods! What a sky! Why didn't you wake me sooner? Have I time for a plunge?"

"Perhaps—if you will let me help you dress after it. Certainly not otherwise." The deep voice had in it a tremulous note that was like a caress. The speaker was looking into the shadows. The glory without no longer held her.

"All right then, you shall—just for a treat. Perhaps you would like to shave me as well?"

"Shave you!" There was scorn this time in the answering voice. "You couldn't grow a single hair if you tried!"

"True, O Queen! I couldn't. And the few I was born with are invisible. Hence my failure to distinguish myself in the Army. It is to be hoped the deficiency will not blight my Parliamentary career also—always supposing I get there."

"Ah, but you did distinguish yourself. I heard—once"—the words came with slight hesitation—"that you ought to have had the V.C. after the Wara expedition,—only you refused it."

"I wonder what gas-bag let that out," commented Nick. "You shouldn't believe all you hear, you know. Now, darling, I'm ready for the plunge, and I must look sharp about it too. Do you mind rummaging out a towel?"

"But, Nick, was it true?"

"What? The V.C. episode? Oh, I suppose so, more or less. I didn't want to be decorated for running away, you see. It didn't seem exactly suitable. Besides, I didn't do it for that."

"Nick, do you know you make me feel more contemptible every day?" There was an unmistakable quiver of distress in the words.

"My own girl, don't be a goose!" came the light response. "You don't honestly suppose I could ever regret anything now, do you? Why, it's a lost faculty."

He stepped from the tent, clad loosely in a bath sheet, and bestowed a kiss upon his wife's downcast face in passing. "Look here, sweetheart, if you cry while I'm in the water, I'll beat you directly I come out. That's a promise, not a threat. And by the way, I've got something good to tell you presently; so keep your heart up."

He laughed at her and went his way, humming tunelessly after his own peculiarly volatile fashion. She listened to his singing, as he splashed in the stream below, as though it were the sweetest music on earth; and she knew that he had spoken the truth. Whatever sacrifices he had made in the past, regret was a thing impossible to him now.

By the time he joined her again, she had driven away her own. The sky was changing mysteriously. The purple depth was lightening, the stars receding.

"We must hurry," said Nick. "The gods won't wait for us."

But they were ready first after all, and the morning found them high up the mountainside with their faces to the east.

Sudden and splendid, the sun flashed up over the edge of the world, and the snow of the mountain crests shone in roselit glory for a few magic seconds, then shimmered to gold—glittering as the peaks of Paradise.

They did not speak at all, for the ground beneath their feet was holy, and all things that called for speech were left behind. Only as dawn became day—as the sun-god mounted triumphant above the waiting earth—the man's arm tightened about the woman, and his flickering eyes grew steadfast and reverent as the eyes of one who sees a vision....

"'Prophet and priestess we came—back from the dawning,'" quoted Nick, under his breath.

Muriel uttered a long, long sigh, and turned her face against her husband's shoulder.

His lips were on her forehead for a moment; the next he was peering into her face with his usual cheery grin.

"Care to hear my piece of news?" he questioned.

She looked at him eagerly. "Oh, Nick, not the mail!"

He nodded. "Runner came in late last night. You were asleep and dreaming of me. I hadn't the heart to wake you."

She laughed and blushed. "As if I should! Do you really imagine that I never think of anyone else? But go on. What news?"

He pulled out two letters. "One from Olga, full of adoration, bless her funny heart, and containing also a rude message from Jim to the effect that Redlands is going to rack and ruin for want of a tenant while we are philandering on the outside edge of civilisation doing no good to anybody. No good indeed! I'll punch his head for that some day. But I suppose we really ought to be thinking of Home before long, eh, sweetheart?"

She assented with a smile and a sigh. "I am sure we ought. Dr. Jim is quite right. We must come back to earth again, my eagle and I."

Nick kissed her hair. "It's been a gorgeous flight hasn't it? We'll do it again—heaps of times—before we die."

"If nothing happens to prevent," said Muriel.

He frowned. "What do you say that for? Are you trying to be like Lady Bassett? Because it's a vain aspiration, so you may as well give it up at the outset."

"Nick, how absurd you are!" There was a slight break in the words. "I—I had almost forgotten there was such a person. No, I said it because—because—well, anything might happen, you know."

"Such as?" said Nick.

"Anything," she repeated almost inaudibly.

Nick pondered this for a moment. "Is it a riddle?" he asked.

She did not answer him. Her face was hidden.

He waited a little. Then, "I shall begin to guess directly," he said.

She uttered a muffled laugh, and clung to him with a sudden, passionate closeness. "Nick, you—you humbug! You know!"

Nick tossed his letters on the ground and held her fast. "My precious girl, you gave the show away not ten seconds ago by that blush of yours. There! Don't be so absurdly shy! You can't be shy with me. Look at me, sweet. Look up and tell me it's true!"

She turned her face upwards, quivering all over, yet laughing tremulously. "Yes, Nick, really, really!" she told him. "Oh, my darling, are you glad?"

"Am I glad?" said Nick, and laughed at her softly. "I'm the happiest man on earth. I shall go Home now without a pang, and so will you. We have got to feather the nest, you know. That'll be fun, eh, sweetheart?"

Her eyes answered him more convincingly than any words. They seemed to have caught some of the sunshine that made the world around them so glorious.

Some time elapsed before she remembered the neglected correspondence. Time was of no account up there among the mountains.

"The other letter, Nick, you didn't tell me about it. I fancied you might have heard from Will Musgrave."

"So I have," said Nick. "You had better read it. There's a line for you inside. It's all right. Daisy has got a little girl, both doing splendidly; Daisy very happy, Will nearly off his head with joy."

Muriel was already deep in Will's ecstatic letter. She read it with smiling lips and tearful eyes. At the end in pencil she found the line that was for her.

"Tell Muriel that all's well with me, and I want you both for Christmas.—Daisy."

Muriel looked up. "I promised to spend Christmas with them, Nick."

Nick smiled upon her quizzically. "By a strange coincidence, darling, so did I. I should think under the circumstances we might go together, shouldn't you?"

She drew his hand to her cheek. "We will go to them for Christmas then. And after that straight Home. Tell Dr. Jim when you write. But—Nick—I think we should like to feather the nest all ourselves, don't you?"

"Why, rather!" said Nick. "We'll do it together—just you and I."

"Just you and I," she repeated softly.

Later, hand in hand, they looked across the valley to the shining crags that glistened spear-like in the sun.

A great silence lay around them—a peace unspeakable—that those silver crests lifted into the splendour of Infinity.

They stood alone together—above the world—with their faces to the mountains.

And thus standing with the woman he loved, Nick spoke, briefly—it seemed lightly—yet with a certain tremor in his voice.

"Horses," he said—"and chariots—of fire!" And Muriel looked at him with memory and understanding in her eyes.

THE END