ue to faintest green, and away to the north-west, above the outer isles,
the sun was sinking behind a bank of plum-coloured clouds which faded away
in long thin bands along the water line. The clouds were rimmed with golden
fire, and wherever an opening was, the golden glory streamed through and
lit the darkening waters between, and set our bold Sercq headlands all
aflame. And up above, the little wind-drawn clouds were rosy red, and right
back into the east the sky was flushed with colour. It was a very low tide,
too, and every rock was bared, so that from the white spit of Herm it
seemed as though a long dark line of ships sped northwards towards the
Casquets. Brecqhou lay dark before us, and the Gouliot Pass was black with
its coiling tide. A flake of light glimmered through the cave behind, and
now and again came the boom of a wave under some low ledge below. Up above
us the sky was full of larks, and their sweet sharp notes came down to us
like peals of little silver bells. And down in Havre Gosselin the gulls
were wheeling noisily as they settled themselves for the night.

I have always thought that view one of the most beautiful in the world, but
all its glories were as nothing to the greater glory in our two hearts. We
had had our cloudy days and our times of storm and strife; and now they
were past, our clouds were turned into golden glories and our hearts were
glad. We had been parted. We had looked death in the face. And now we were
together and we would part no more.

We sat there in the heather till all the glories faded save our own,--till
Guernsey and Herm and Jethou sank into the night--till Brecqhou was only a
shadow, and the Gouliot stream only a sound; and then we went down the
scented lanes close-linked, as were our hearts.

Jean Le Marchant was sitting in the kitchen with Aunt Jeanne. He was
recovered of his wound, and Martin also, but for the elder, at all events,
active life was over, and he would have to be content with the land, and
his memories.

We came in arm in arm.

"Do you see any objection to our marrying at once, M. Le Marchant?" I
asked. "We are of one mind in the matter."

"B'en!" said Aunt Jeanne, with a face like a globe of light. "We will have
it on Wednesday. You can go over to the Dean for a license, mon gars, and
I'll be all ready--Wednesday--you understand."

And Jean Le Marchant smiled and said, "At Beaumanoir Mistress Falla rules
the roost. Everyone does as she says."