“But our lives are for ever joined together now, and everything else must go by the board.”

“Nothing shall go by the board for my sake, Martin.  I refuse and forbid it.”

Everything had been arranged, everything settled, great sums of money had been subscribed out of faith in him, and him only, and a large company was ready and waiting to sail under his command.  He was the Man of Destiny, therefore nothing—­nothing whatever—­must keep him back.

“Then if I must go, you must go too,” he said.  “I mean you must go with me to London and wait there until I return.”

“That is impossible,” I answered.

The eyes of the world were on him now, and the heart of the world was with him.  If I did what he desired it would reflect dishonour on his name, and he should not suffer for my sake under any circumstances.

“But think what may happen to you while I am away,” he said.

“Nothing will happen while you are away, Martin.”

“But how can you be so sure of the future when God alone knows what it is to be?”

“Then God will provide for it,” I said, and with that last answer he had to be satisfied.

“You must take a letter from me at all events,” said Martin, and sitting at my desk he began to write one.

It is amazing to me now when I come to think of it that I could have been so confident of myself and so indifferent to consequences.  But I was thinking of one thing only—­that Martin must go on his great errand, finish his great work and win his great reward, without making any sacrifice for me.

After a few minutes he rose from the desk and handed me his letter.

“Here it is,” he said.  “If the worst comes to the worst you may find it of some use some day.”

I took it and doubled it and continued to hold it in my hand.

“Aren’t you going to look at it!” he said.

“No.”

“Not even to see whom it is written to?”

“That is unnecessary.”

I thought I knew it was written to my husband or my father, and it did not matter to me which, for I had determined not to use it.

“It is open—­won’t you see what it says?”

“That is unnecessary also.”

I thought I knew that Martin had tried to take everything upon himself, and I was resolved that he should not do so.

He looked at me with that worshipful expression which seen in the eyes of the man who loves her, makes a woman proud to be alive.

“I feel as if I want to kiss the hem of your dress, Mary,” he said, and after that there was a moment of heavenly silence.

It was now half-past eight—­the hour when the motor-car had been ordered round to take him to the town—­and though I felt as if I could shed drops of my blood to keep back the finger of my cuckoo clock I pointed it out and said it was time for him to go.

I think our parting was the most beautiful moment of all my life.