Her voice broke, and she lay trembling in my arms, her face hidden. “If the summer never comes for us” — she whispered. “Good-by, my lover and my husband. If I have brought you ruin and death, I have brought you, too, a love that is very great. Forgive me and kiss me, and let me go.”

“Thou art my dearly loved and honored wife,” I said. “My heart forebodes summer, and joy, and peace, and home.”

We kissed each other solemnly, as those who part for a journey and a warfare. I spoke no word to Rolfe when the door was opened and she had passed out with her cloak drawn about her face, but we clasped hands, and each knew the other for his friend indeed. They were gone, the gaoler closing and locking the door behind them. As for me, I went back