“I came—­I came”—­sobbed Unity, “just to bring you their love—­Uncle Dick’s and Uncle Edward’s and Aunt Nancy’s—­and to say that Fontenoy is still home, and—­and—­”

“Yes,” said Jacqueline.  “But this is my home now, Unity.  It has been”—­she raised her arms—­“it has been my home for many and many a day!  You may tell them that; you may tell it to Fairfax Cary.”

“Don’t—­don’t think of him as an enemy!”

“I think of him as he is.  What is the message, Unity?”

“I have none—­I have none,” cried Unity, “except that whatever happens—­whatever happens, Jacqueline, you are the darling of us all—­of the old home and Uncle Dick and Uncle Edward and Aunt Nancy and Deb and me and all the servants!  There is none at Fontenoy that does not love and honour you!  Think of us, and come to us—­”

“When?  When, Unity?”

Unity rose.  “Now, if you will, darling—­dearest—­”

Jacqueline smiled.  “Now?  When you are married, you will find that you cannot leave home so easily.”  She crossed the bedroom floor to a window, and stood with her hands on either side of the casement, and with her face lifted to the pure blue heaven.

Unity waited with held breath.  “She knows—­she knows,” said her beating heart.

Jacqueline came back to the middle of the room.  “Thank them for me, Unity, and tell them that I cannot leave my husband now.”  Her touch, clay-cold and fluttering, fell upon her cousin’s arm.  “There are wisdom and goodness in the world, and they wish to see things rightly, if only they had the power.  Tell them at Fontenoy, and tell Fairfax Cary, too, that they have not altogether understood!  Even he—­even the one who is dead—­did not quite do that, though he came more nearly than any.  It is my hope and my belief that now he understands, forgives, and sees—­and sees the dawn in the land!”

She raised her head, and the expression of her face was exquisite.  No longer wan, she stood as though the flush of dawn were upon her.  It paled, and the air of tragedy enfolded her again, but the light had been there, and it left her majestic.  The grace within her and the sweetness were unfailing.  She came now to her cousin, put an arm around her, and kissed her on the cheek.  “You love truly, too,” she whispered.  “When trouble comes, you’ll understand—­you’ll understand!”

Unity held her to her and wept.  “O Jacqueline!—­O Jacqueline!”

“You put on the blue gown to remind me, didn’t you?” asked Jacqueline.  “I didn’t need any reminding, dear.  It is all with me, all the old, frank, happy days; all the time when I was a girl and we used to sit, just you and I, by my window and watch the stars come out between the fir branches!  And I love you all, every one of you.  And I do not blame Fairfax Cary.  It is destiny, I think, with us all.  But I want you to know—­and you can tell them that, too,—­that there is one whom I love beyond every one else, beyond life, death, fear, anguish, meeting, and parting.  Loving him so, and not despairing of a life to come when we are all washed clean, my dear, when we are all washed clean—­”