Chapter XIX: Epilogue: Tristram

"Raise the light, my page! that I may see her--
Thou art come at last, then, haughty Queen?
Long I've waited, long I've fought my fever;
Late thou comest, cruel hast thou been."

ISEULT.

"Blame me not, poor sufferer! that I tarried;
Bound I was, I could not break the band.
Chide not with the past, but feel the present!
I am here--we meet--I hold thy hand."

MATTHEW ARNOLD: "Tristram and Iseult."

I had intended to write no more, but as we left the Consulate to-day after our wedding, a cable was handed me by my smiling Italian valet.

"Paddy Culling for a bob!" I said, as I opened it and prepared for some whimsical message of congratulation.

I was wrong. The cable was my reply from Yokohama.

"No offence intended," it ran. "Delighted lunch as suggested.--SERAPH."

THE END

PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, LONDON AND BECCLES.

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