“Mary, isn’t that your answer to me?” “Yes.”  Her arms fell from his shoulders, and she stood opposite to him, in silence again for a moment.  Then her troubled face cleared to a calm serenity.  “And now I set doubts and fears behind me.  I come to you in faith, and loyalty, and love.  I’m not a missionary to you, or a reformer, God forbid!  I’m just the woman who loves you, Hector.”

“I should have mocked at the missionary, and tricked the reformer.”  He bared his head before her.  “But by the woman who loves me and whom I love, I will deal faithfully.”  He bent and kissed her forehead.

“And now, let’s walk on.  No, not to old Place—­back home, past Tower Cottage.”

She put her arm through his again, and they set out through the soft dusk that had begun to hover about them.  So they came to the cottage, and here, for a while, instinctively stayed their steps.  A light shone in the parlor window; the Tower was dark and still.  Mary turned her face to Beaumaroy’s with a sudden smile of scornful gladness.

“Aye, aye, you’re right!” His smile answered hers.  “Poor devils!  I’m sorry; for them, upon my soul I am!”

“That really is just like you!” she exclaimed in mirthful exasperation.  “Sorry for the Radbolts now, are you?”

“Well, after all, they’ve only got the gold.  We’ve got the treasure, Mary!”

THE END.