ends in the quick world whither you go. You were foolish;
now you are wise. It is time to depart; seek not to return, that we may
have peace and you safety. When the world cometh to her spring again we
shall meet." Then he turned and was gone, with Trafford's voice ringing
after him,--"Shangi! Shangi!"

They ran out swiftly, but he had vanished. In the valley where the
moonlight fell in icy coldness a herd of cattle was moving, and their
breath rose like the spray from sea-beaten rocks, and the sound of their
breathing was borne upwards to the watchers.

At daybreak they rode down into the valley. All was still. Not a trace
of life remained; not a hoofmark in the snow, nor a bruised blade of
grass. And when they climbed to the plateau and looked back, it seemed
to Trafford and his companions, as it seemed in after years, that this
thing had been all a fantasy. But Hester's face was beside them, and
it told of strange and unsubstantial things. The shadows of the middle
world were upon her. And yet again when they turned at the last there
was no token. It was a northern valley, with sun and snow, and cold blue
shadows, and the high hills,--that was all.

Then Hester said: "O Just, I do not know if this is life or death--and
yet it must be death, for after death there is forgiveness to those who
repent, and your face is forgiving and kind."

And he--for he saw that she needed much human help and comfort--gently
laid his hand on hers and replied: "Hester, this is life, a new life
for both of us. Whatever has been was a dream; whatever is now"--and
he folded her hand in his--"is real; and there is no such thing as
forgiveness to be spoken of between us. There shall be happiness for us
yet, please God!"

"I want to go to Falkenstowe. Will--will my mother forgive me?"

"Mothers always forgive, Hester, else half the world had slain itself in
shame."

And then she smiled for the first time since he had seen her. This was
in the shadows of the scented pines; and a new life breathed upon her,
as it breathed upon them all, and they knew that the fever of the White
Valley had passed away from them forever.

After many hardships they came in safety to the regions of the south
country again; and the tale they told, though doubted by the race of
pale-faces, was believed by the heathen; because there was none among
them but, as he cradled at his mother's breasts, and from his youth up,
had heard the legend of the Scarlet Hunte