but for the silent patient on his couch. Slowly, almost fearfully, she crept to his bedside and stood looking down into the face of her husband. And while she looked Alan's lashes fluttered, his respiration quickened, a faint colour crept into his pallid cheeks, and his eyes opened wide and looked into hers.
His lips moved and breathed a word of recognition:
"Judith!"
With a low cry of tenderness, the girl sank to her knees and encircled his head with her arms.
"Judith," she whispered, hiding her face in his bosom, "Judith is no more. …"
A pause, then again the feeble voice:
"Then, if I was mistaken, if you aren't Judith, you must be Rose—my wife!"
She said steadily, "I am your wife."
His hands fumbled with her face, closed upon her cheeks, lifted her head until her eyes looked into his.
And for many minutes he held her so, looking deep into the soul of the woman.
Then quietly he said, "I know …"
THE END
