She smiled up at him, a tender gravity in her face. Her thoughts slipped back to the little song which seemed to hold so strange a symbolism of her own life. The third verse had come true at last. She repeated it aloud, very softly:
"But sometimes God on His great white ThroneLooks down from the Heaven above,And lays in the hands that are emptyThe tremulous Star of Love."
Peter stooped and kissed her lips. There was a still, quiet passion in his kiss, but there was something more—something deep and intransmutable—the same unchanging troth which, he had given her at Tintagel of love that would last "through this world into the next."
End of Project Gutenberg's The Moon out of Reach, by Margaret Pedler