, and I had no more candle. I
thought of the candles in the church, and wondered how I could get at
them.

"Ruth," I said, "could you bear to stay here while I go into the church
for another light? Our candle is nearly out."

"No, Roger," she said, clinging to me, "I could not bear for you to
leave me," and she clung to me more closely.

I lifted her out of her narrow bed and prepared to carry her. I had
not much difficulty in this. She was very light, very thin.

Taking the lantern in my hand I bore her away from her dread
resting-place. With what a sense of relief I lifted my darling through
the narrow entrance! With what gladness I realised that she was not
dead! When I went down my heart was cold and heavy as lead; now it was
warm; it beat with new life. I went down in what seemed to be the
darkness of death; I came out into the light of Heaven!

I seized a candle which stood on the Communion table and lit it from
the one in my lantern which had almost gone out.

Then I tried to take off my coat to wrap her in, but this she would not
allow me to do. She was still unselfish Ruth, suffering herself rather
than let another suffer. So I took the cloth that lay on the table,
the doth which was marked with a cross. I wrapped her in that, and
surely I committed no sacrilege in doing so. It was large and warm,
and entirely covered her, all but her white feet that peeped out from
under her shroud.

I took another look at her, a longing, loving look. Her old beauty was
coming back; she was losing all fear as she realised my presence.

"Ruth," I said, "it is your Roger who asks you, may I kiss you?"

A faint smile came into her face, something like the smile I had seen
in the olden days.

"Dare you kiss me in my shroud, Roger?" she said.

Even then she could not repress the quaint, quiet humour I had loved
years before.

Dare I! I covered her face with kisses, and as I did so I forgot
everything, forgot all I had done, forgot where I was. I only knew
that I held Ruth in my arms, and that her lips met mine!

Then, in spite of her protests, I took off my coat and wrapped it
around her little feet.

"What are you going to do with me, Roger?" she said.

"I am going to carry you home," I said.

"Home! Home where?"

"Home to Morton Hall."

"Can you?" she said. "It is a long way.

"Can I?" I said with a laugh.

She looked at me as though she gloried in my strength, and was glad she
could tr