sage which she had sent to him by his servant: "Tell your master that I am to be married." She had almost forgotten that. But his heart should have told him what she meant by that, she argued. "She was to be married, if only he wished it." Why did he not come to her? Could it be possible that he thought she was to marry another?
Such thoughts the rush and jingle of the great barge had interrupted. The barge rushed by, and looking up the strait she saw coming toward her, his form dark against the red sunset, Geoffrey Ripon.
He saw her at the same moment, and he took off his hat She walked up to him and offered him her hand.
"Miss Windsor, Maggie," he said as he grasped it.
"You received my message?" she asked, looking into his eyes.
"I did. Is it true?"
"I do not know," she answered, looking down at the river, which gleamed below rosy with the sunset; a happy omen. "It depends—"
"Upon what?" asked Geoffrey, eagerly.
"Upon you, Geoffrey," she answered. "Did you not know it?" And the sun, which just then disappeared over the Brookline hills, did not in his circuit of the world look upon a happier pair than these two lovers, clasped in each other's arms.
