And Zara, quite crushed with her anxiety and sorrow about Mirko, and passionately unhappy at Tristram's treatment of her, once more returned to her lonely room.

And here she dismissed her maid, and remained looking out on the night.

The mist had gone and some pure, fair stars shone out.
Was that where _Maman_ was--up there?
And was Mirko going to her soon, away out of this cruel world of sorrow and pain?
As he had once said, surely there, there would be room for them both.
But Zara was no morbidly sentimental person, the strong blood ran in her veins, and she knew she must face her life and be true to herself, whatever else might betide.

So after a while the night airs soothed her, and she said her prayers and went to bed.
But Tristram, her lord, paced the floor of his room until almost dawn.
* * * * * The next day passed in the same kind of way, only, it was nearly all in public, with local festivities again; and both of the pair played their parts well, as they were now experienced actors, and only one incident marked the pain of this Thursday out from the pains of the other days.
It was in the schoolhouse at Wrayth, where the buxom girl who had been assistant mistress, and had married, a year before, brought her first-born son to show the lord and lady--as he had been born on their wedding day, just a fortnight ago! She was pale and wan, but so ecstatically proud and happy looking; and Tristram at once said, they--he and Zara--must be the god-parents of her boy; and Zara held the crimson, crumpled atom for a moment, and then looked up and met her husband's eyes, and saw that they had filled with tears.

And she returned the creature to its mother--but she could not speak, for a moment.
And finally they had come home again--home to Wrayth--and no more unhappy pair of young, healthy people lived on earth.
Zara could hardly contain her impatience to see if a telegram for her from Mimo had come in her absence.