? Was it merely
recollections, or did his desperate spirit revisit the route of its life
in a fruitless flight from Death? His voice came from far away, and what
he said showed that he was at least living over the older days.

"Yes, Meg, Hi loves you. There hisn't a king, girl, has Hi would change
plyces with for you.... Posies for yer winder. Let 'em grow, till we've
other posies in our 'ome. Yer blushin', Meg. Ha! Ha!... Oh, Gawd, me
'eart's broke.... Forget?... Hit's you, Doc Judson, as will look arter
Captain Carter now. Good-bye, Doc.... Why, there's 'er face again. Damn
you, Meg. Hi hates you, but Hi loves you.... Captain Carter.... Ah-h-h."

His struggle with Love, with Life, and with Death was over. With a
long-drawn sigh of relief his spirit had passed. His head was turned to
the man who had befriended him.

Hand in hand, Trusia and Carter arose and stood over the pulseless form.
Trusia was the first to speak.

[Illustration: "DON'T LET 'IM CARRY YOUR SWEET FACE TO THE GRAVE WITH
'IM UNLESS YOUR LOVE GOES WITH IT"]

"We cannot leave him here, dear. Poor, poor Carrick," and she threatened
to sob. Carter slipped his arm about her comfortingly. As though
returning, birdlike, to its nest, her head cradled itself against his
shoulder, her arm timidly sought his neck and for one brief second she
was content.

"Come," he said almost brutally to dissipate the apathy which death had
thrown upon them both. "I'll carry him." He assisted her to mount, then,
Carrick in his arms, he scrambled into the saddle. As they swung at a
gallop out of the woods, a shot whistled past his head.

"Are you hurt, dear?" she cried.

"No; these woods seem Russianized, though. Pray heaven the road is not,"
and with strained eyes to the front, with word and spur, they raced for
the lane to the castle.

"Something is amiss, dear; I know; I feel it. Still no matter what it
is," she said, turning and laying her hand with a trustful little
movement upon his arm, "I have your love, my King." With one foot on the
flat step of the castle entrance, as she said this Trusia turned to
Carter, a world of capitulated love in her eyes. The wicket opened with
a more ominous creak than was its wont, it seemed. The Sergeant thrust
his shaggy pate through the narrow opening in answer to their knock. On
seeing who it was he stepped out to where he would have ample space for
the full salute he always gave Her Grace. Some perplexity on the simple
face a