White crosses of stone shone dully in the moonlight, in a hollow she
had once held sacred. A name was spoken in her mind, and in distant
memory a hand caressed her face. She felt a moment of profound
sadness, for a love that had died. But even that lost sorrow faded,
till she knew that it was truly over.
Up the shallow hill to the cottage. She turned the knob of the
thrice-familiar back door, and entered. Through the kitchen, into the
passage to the main room, where a fire was burning brightly. Her aunt
looked up as she entered, from the same armchair in which she had left
her. A man stood beside her, with eyes so deep and piercing.....
She collapsed to the floor. Michael James Scott lifted her in his
trembling arms, and carried her to his mother's bed.
Part Two:
The Fortress
Seventeen
Mary felt something cool being pressed against her forehead, and at
the same time a warmth and lightness of being for which she could in
no way account. Remembering the vision she had seen of him---was it
days, hours, moments before?---she opened her eyes slowly, afraid of
waking from the blissful dream of his return, which could not possibly
be real.
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