She stretched out her hands to him, and he took one and drew her to Michael, who stood behind him.
Then he took also his old friend's hand, and clasped it upon Sabine's.
"I am not much of a churchman," he said, hoarsely, "but this part of the marriage service is true, I expect.

'Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder.'" Then he dropped their hands, and turned toward the door.
"Oh! Henry, you are so good to us!" Sabine cried.

"No words can say what I feel." But Lord Fordyce could bear no more--and murmuring some kind of blessing, he got from the room, leaving the two there in the embrasure of the great window gazing into each other's eyes.
As the door shut, Michael spoke at last: "Sabine--My own!" he whispered, and held out his arms.
* * * * * When Henry left Sabine's sitting-room, he staggered down the stairs like one blind--the poignant anguish had returned, and the mantle of comfort fell from his shoulders.

He was human, after all, and the picture of the rapture on the faces of the two, showing him what he had never obtained, stabbed him like a knife.

He felt that he would willingly drop over the causeway bridge into the boiling sea, and finish all the pain.