She lay upon the couch, near the open window, very white and still.

She was gazing out across the sea; but, as he closed the door, she turned her eyes and watched him, while he walked over to the couch; and those patient eyes were so full of unutterable love and longing, that his throat closed on the words he had meant to say.

He knelt down beside her, took both her hands in his, and laid his lips upon them.

“Miriam! Miriam!”

“Nigel, you do remember?”

“Yes, my belovÈd, my wife, my own—thank God, I do remember. And I love you with every fibre of my being.”

He knew the time was short. There must be no delay.

He drew her wedding-ring from his finger, slipped it back to its rightful place, and laid his lips on ring and finger together.

“I love you utterly,” he said, “and I hold you mine for ever.”

“Nigel, my husband, this time it is I who go, and you who remain behind. You will be braver than I.”

“My own,” he answered, “we shall be together in the place where alone true joys are to be found; safe within the circle of the Will of God. Since I left you and went out into the sunrise, I, who before was empty, have become rich beyond all human comprehension in the possession of three different memories. I remember the thirty years of this present life. I remember the precious love which was ours in the life before, and, remembering that, my heart has grown so rich that I care not to remember aught else of that life, but just the utter sweetness of our wedded love. And, best of all, it has been granted me to remember something of the wonder of that eternal Dwelling Place—that short while in Eternity, before our great love drew me back to Time—not in detail, but in its larger lines of truth.”

“Ah, tell me that,” she whispered. “I know the precious past. I know much of the present. Tell me of the Eternity between.”

“God’s love,” he said, “is the great Dwelling Place; God’s Will, the very air we breathe. The passionate desire of every soul, freed from the earthly prison of the flesh, is to return that love, to do that Will. The Son of God, walking the earth as man—though emptied, for the time being, of His eternal memory—remembered this, and gave His fellow men the perfect prayer: ‘Thy will be done in earth, as it is in Heaven.’ When that prayer finds its complete fulfilment, earth’s hard perplexities will all be solved, earth’s tears all wiped away. His perfect Will ensures man’s perfect joy. The next petition in the pattern prayer bears out this thought. ‘Give us this day our daily bread.’ What food is to the body, doing the Will of God is to the soul. He Who taught us thus to pray, was the one man who could say with absolute honesty: ‘My meat is to do the Will of Him that sent me.’

“All souls know this by instinct. The sinner knows it in his sin, and fails to find in sin a lasting pleasure. The agnostic knows it in his search after something which can meet and satisfy the craving of his mind. The martyr knows it, and laughs at the cruel flame. The angels know it, and fly swiftly on strong wings. Christ knew it, in Gethsemane, and hushed the natural protest of his human agony, and summed up His life’s purpose in those perfect words: ‘Nevertheless, not my will, but Thine be done.’ When the last rebel soul has yielded and understood, then the great End will come; God will be All in all.”

He paused and laid his forehead upon her folded hands.

“My wife, our sacred love must stand this test. This is the fire which burns up all the dross, but leaves us, as eternal treasure, the gold and precious stones.

“Just now I woke, filled with the rapture of our love, the joy, beyond all words, of having found you. Almost at once, I heard that I must lose you. My flesh cried out: ‘I cannot let her go!’ Then came the Angel of His love and pity, and laid a strengthening hand upon my soul, and said: ‘This is God’s Will, His perfect way for her and you.’ BelovÈd, to that Will we both must bow. Thus shall we find our purest joy, and love which has no ending.”

“Nigel,” she whispered, “I brought you back empty, and I leave you desolate.”

He waited till his voice was steady, then replied:

“Listen, sweet wife of mine! Our love has brought me Home. Through you there comes to me this chance to put myself once more within the Will of God. Together we accept, in faith and patience, this parting we are called upon to face, and thus atone for the mistaken past. Mine is the harder part, I know; but I would have it so. I left you to the harder part before. I shall be lonely, but not desolate. I owe a debt to life for thirty selfish, wasted years. If a great chance comes, I may pay it soon. That will be as God wills. But, be the parting long or short, always I shall know you watch and wait for me; and, thanks again to you, I shall not be earth-bound; for, where my Treasure is, there will my heart be also.”

At last he lifted his head and looked at her.

Then his courage almost broke. That lovely face, so dear, so well-remembered. Those lips, parting in soft surrender. The tenderness his heart so hungered for, dwelling upon him in those dying eyes.

“Oh, I can’t!” he said, and hid his face against her breast. “My God, give us one year! If it be possible, let this cup pass.”

She laid her hands upon his head and held him close.

“‘Nevertheless——’” she said: “Oh, Nigel, finish it!”

And, in a voice broken by sobs, he spoke the sacred words which make complete a brave soul’s sacrifice.