“I am no great eater,” said Jarwin, and walked toward the door, “a wash and brush-up and a plate of soup will satisfy me.  And I will say again what I said before to both of you, that you thoroughly deserve your good fortune.  Lord Garvington, you are the luckier of the two, as you have a wife who is far above rubies, and—­and—­dear me, I am talking romance.  So foolish at my age.  To think—­well—­well, I am extremely hungry, so don’t let luncheon be long before it appears,” and with a croaking laugh at his jokes the lawyer disappeared.

Left alone the fortunate couple fell into one another’s arms.  It seemed incredible that the past storm should have been succeeded by so wonderful a calm.  They had been tested by adversity, and they had proved themselves to be of sterling metal.  Before them the future stretched in a long, smooth road under sunny blue skies, and behind them the black clouds, out of which they had emerged, were dispersing into thin air.  Evil passes, good endures.

“Two millions!” sighed Agnes joyfully.

“Of red money,” remarked her husband.

“Why do you call it that?”

“Mother Cockleshell—­bless her!—­called it so because it was tainted with blood.  But we must cleanse the stains, Agnes, by using much of it to help all that are in trouble.  God has been good in settling our affairs in this way, but He has given me a better gift than the money.”

“What is that?” asked Lady Garvington softly.

“The love of my dear wife,” said the happiest of men to the happiest of women.

THE END.

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