And now, truly, she was glorious.

For the triumph of love had overridden the despair of death, and her face was flooded with its colour and in her eyes was its glory.
And then, as they stood there, a step between them, there came--almost like the benediction of a cathedral bell--the soft, low tinkling chime of the half-hour bell in Aldous' watch! It struck him like a blow.

Every muscle in him became like rigid iron, and his torn hands clenched tightly at his sides.
"Joanne--Joanne, it is impossible!" he cried huskily, and he had her close in his arms again, even as her face was whitening in the lantern-glow.

"I have lived for you, I have waited for you--all these years you have been coming, coming, coming to me--and now that you are mine--_mine_--it is impossible! It cannot happen----" He freed her again, and caught up a lantern.

Foot by foot he examined the packed tunnel.