ed his glass, smiling, but deeply
moved:

"My little brother."

He turned to Basil when he spoke and back again to Judith, who, of all
present, knew all that he meant, and he saw her eyes shine with the
sudden light of tears.

At last came the creak of wheels on the snow outside, the cries of
servants, the good-bys and good-wishes and congratulations from one and
all to one and all; the mother's kiss to Basil and Phyllis, who were
under their mother's wing; the last calls from the doorway; the light of
lanterns across the fields; the slam of the pike-gate--and, over the
earth, white silence. The mother kissed Judith and kissed her son.

"My children!"

Then, as was her custom always, she said simply:

"Be sure to bolt the front door, my son."

And, as he had done for years, Crittenden slipped the fastenings of the
big hall-door, paused a moment, and looked out. Around the corner of the
still house swept the sounds of merriment from the quarters. The moon
had risen on the snowy fields and white-cowled trees and draped hedges
and on the slender white shaft under the bent willow over his father's
and his uncle's grave--the brothers who had fought face to face and were
sleeping side by side in peace, each the blameless gentleman who had
reverenced his conscience as his king, and, without regret for his way
on earth, had set his foot, without fear, on the long way into the
hereafter. For one moment his mind swept back over the short, fierce
struggle of the summer.

As they had done, so he had tried to do; and as they had lived, so he,
with God's help, would live henceforth to the end. For a moment he
thought of the flag hanging motionless in the dim drawing-room behind
him--the flag of the great land that was stretching out its powerful
hand to the weak and oppressed of the earth. And then with a last look
to the willow and the shaft beneath, his lips moved noiselessly:

"They will sleep better to-night."

Judith was standing in the drawing-room on his hearth, looking into his
fire and dreaming. Ah, God, to think that it should come to pass at
last!

He entered so softly that she did not hear him. There was no sound but
the drowsy tick of the great clock in the hall and the low song of the
fire.

"Sweetheart!"

She looked up quickly, the dream gone from her face, and in its place
the light of love and perfect trust, and she stood still, her arms
hanging at her sides--waiting.

"Sweetheart!"

God was goo