We had had our cloudy days and our times of storm and strife; and now they were past, our clouds were turned into golden glories and our hearts were glad.

We had been parted.

We had looked death in the face.

And now we were together and we would part no more.
We sat there in the heather till all the glories faded save our own,--till Guernsey and Herm and Jethou sank into the night--till Brecqhou was only a shadow, and the Gouliot stream only a sound; and then we went down the scented lanes close-linked, as were our hearts.
Jean Le Marchant was sitting in the kitchen with Aunt Jeanne.

He was recovered of his wound, and Martin also, but for the elder, at all events, active life was over, and he would have to be content with the land, and his memories.
We came in arm in arm.
"Do you see any objection to our marrying at once, M.Le Marchant ?" I asked.