arms up and down his path and repeat strange poetry to me. When you are well, we will go there, won’t we?”

“Yes, dearest; but didn’t the remembrance come to you just now, when you saw the long path of light before us?”

“I think no, David. I’m afraid I forgot every one but you then, when you asked would I like to bide here with you; and the long path of light was our love — for it reaches up to heaven, doesn’t it, David?”

“It reaches to heaven, Cassandra.”

Then they were silent, for there was no more to say.