" As he said this, in a low and mournful, but firm voice, the tears gathered thickly in Winifred's dark eyelashes. "At length I am my own master," murmured the knight, as his foot touched the strand. Why, there was drama in the very dress she wore! There was drama in the unusual beauty of her, hidden away all these years on a forgotten isle! "You've been lonely, too. She still could not muster the strength to leave. Books! She knew now what had saved her—her mother's hand, reaching down from heaven, had set the giver's flaming eyes upon the covers of these books. But some little distance behind him, someone had come out from the shadow of the building and, seeing the Frenchman reappear, darted back again as quickly.
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