In the years since he had graduated from West Point General Dru had learned to speak German, French and Spanish fluently, and he was learning with Gloria the language of the Slavs at odd moments during the closing months of his administration. Gloria wondered why he was so intent upon learning this language, and why he wanted her also to know it, but she no longer questioned him, for experience had taught her that he would tell her when he was ready for her to know.

His labors were materially lightened in these closing months, and as the time for his retirement drew near, he saw more and more of Gloria. Discarding the conventions, they took long rides together, and more frequently they took a few camp utensils, and cooked their mid-day meal in the woods. How glad Gloria was to see the pleasure these excursions gave him! No man of his age, perhaps of any age, she thought, had ever been under the strain of so heavy a responsibility, or had acquitted himself so well. She, who knew him best, had never seen him shirk his duty, nor try to lay his own responsibilities upon another’s shoulders. In the hours of peril to himself and to his cause he had never faltered. When there was a miscarriage of his orders or his plans, no word of blame came from him if the effort was loyal and the unhappy agent had given all of his energy and ability.

He had met every situation with the fortitude that knows no fear, and with a wisdom that would cause him to be remembered as long as history lasts.

And now his life’s work was done. How happy she was! If he did not love her, she knew he loved no one else, for never had she known him to be more than politely pleasant to other women.

One golden autumn day, they motored far into the hills to the west of Washington. They camped upon a mighty cliff towering high above the Potomac. What pleasure they had preparing their simple meal! It was hard for Gloria to realize that this lighthearted boy was the serious statesman and soldier of yesterday. When they had finished they sat in the warm sunshine on the cliff’s edge. The gleaming river followed its devious course far below them, parting the wooded hills in the distance. The evening of the year had come, and forest and field had been touched by the Master’s hand. For a long time they sat silent under the spell that nature had thrown around them.

“I find it essential for the country’s good to leave it for awhile, perhaps forever,” said Philip Dru. “Already a large majority of the newly elected House have asked me to become the Executive. If I accepted, there would be those who would believe that in a little while, I would again assume autocratic control. I would be a constant menace to my country if I remained within it.

“I have given to the people the best service of which I was capable, and they know and appreciate it. Now I can serve them again by freeing them from the shadow of my presence and my name. I shall go to some obscure portion of the world where I cannot be found and importuned to return.

“There is at San Francisco a queenly sailing craft, manned and provisioned for a long voyage. She is waiting to carry me to the world’s end if needs be.”

Then Philip took Gloria’s unresisting hand, and said, “My beloved, will you come with me in my exile? I have loved you since the day that you came into my life, and you can never know how I have longed for the hour to come when I would be able to tell you so. Come with me, dear heart, into this unknown land and make it glad for me. Come because I am drunken with love of you and cannot go alone. Come so that the days may be flooded with joy and at night the stars may sing to me because you are there. Come, sweet Gloria, come with me.”

Happy Gloria! Happy Philip! She did not answer him. What need was there? How long they sat neither knew, but the sun was far in the west and was sending its crimson tide over an enchanted land when the lovers came back to earth.

Far out upon the waters of San Francisco Bay lay the graceful yet sturdy Eaglet. The wind had freshened, the sails were filled, and she was going swift as a gull through the Golden Gate into a shimmering sea.

A multitude of friends, and those that wished them well, had gathered on the water front and upon the surrounding hills to bid farewell to Philip Dru and his bride Gloria.

They watched in silent sadness as long as they could see the ship’s silhouette against the western sky, and until it faded into the splendid waste of the Pacific.

Where were they bound? Would they return? These were the questions asked by all, but to which none could give answer.