And o'er the hills and far away,
Beyond their utmost purple rim,
Beyond the night, across the day,
Thro' all the world she followed him.
--TENNYSON.
Michael did not see Rose Marie in England, for her father had taken her
away that same evening, after the acquittal, and journeyed with her
forthwith to Paris.
And it was in the little room of the Rue de l'Ancienne Comédie that
Michael once more beheld his snowdrop. It was December now and the room
was filled with Christmas roses. Outside, the snow lay heavy on the
ground. Maman Legros, with sleeves well rolled up over her sturdy arms,
was stirring the contents of her stock-pot. Papa--a little more grey,
a little more bent, mayhap, than he had been a year ago--was staring
silently into the fire.
Rose Marie sat at her harpsichord in the window embrasure, and sang
to her own accompaniment. Through the panes of the leaded window the
pale rays of a December sun lit up the golden radiance of her hair, and
rested on her hands as they wandered over the ivory keys.
Thus Michael saw her again after all these months of suffering. He
stood for a moment in the doorway, for happiness at times is more
difficult to bear than grief. But Love was triumphant at last. The
splendid blackguard, the reckless adventurer, was only an humble lover
now. He gazed on his snowdrop with eyes wherein ardent passion mingled
with deep reverence.
Let the veil of oblivion be drawn across those leaded windows; let it
shut out all light which comes from the outer world. Michael at Rose
Marie's feet forgot all save that he had won her--the pure, stainless
girl--even through the infinity of her pity which had first called into
being her infinite love.
Papa and Maman Legros, looking on their child's exquisite face,
suffused now with the glow of perfect love and perfect trust, exchanged
a knowing look.
Then they very softly tiptoed out of the room.
THE END
End of Project Gutenberg's The Noble Rogue, by Baroness Emmuska Orczy Orczy