Lakla's head lay on the Irishman's shoulder, the golden eyes misty sunpools of love and adoration; and the O'Keefe, a new look of power and strength upon his clear-cut features, was gazing down into them with that look which rises only from the heart touched for the first time with that true, all-powerful love, which is the pulse of the universe itself, the real music of the spheres of which Plato dreamed, the love that is stronger than death itself, immortal as the high gods and the true soul of all that mystery we call life.
Then Lakla raised her hands, pressed down Larry's head, kissed him between the eyes, drew herself with a trembling little laugh from his embrace.
"The future Mrs.Larry O'Keefe, Goodwin," said Larry to me a little unsteadily.
I took their hands--and Lakla kissed me! She turned to the booming--smiling--frog-maids; gave them some command, for they filed away down the path.

Suddenly I felt, well, a little superfluous.
"If you don't mind," I said, "I think I'll go up the path there again and look about." But they were so engrossed with each other that they did not even hear me--so I walked away, up to the embrasure where Rador had taken me.
The movement of the batrachians over the bridge had ceased.

Dimly at the far end I could see the cluster of the garrison.

My thoughts flew back to Lakla and to Larry.
What was to be the end?
If we won, if we were able to pass from this place, could she live in our world?
A product of these caverns with their atmosphere and light that seemed in some subtle way to be both food and drink--how would she react to the unfamiliar foods and air and light of outer earth?
Further, here so far as I was able to discover, there were no malignant bacilli--what immunity could Lakla have then to those microscopic evils without, which only long ages of sickness and death have bought for us a modicum of protection?
I began to be oppressed.
Surely they had been long enough by themselves.

I went down the path.
I heard Larry.
"It's a green land, _mavourneen_.