"Already the inconceivable fertility of the earth is yielding its bounties a hundred fold; and trade-routes circle the ends of the great Abyss; and all the vast territory once the United States has begun to open again before the magic touch of man!
"Of man--now free at last! No more slavery! No more the lash of hunger driving men to their tasks. No more greed and grasping; no lust of gold, no bitter cry of crushed and hopeless serfdom! No buying and selling for the lure of profit; no speculating in the people's means of life; no squeezing of their blood for wealth! But free, strong labor, gladly done. The making of useful and beautiful things, Beatrice, and their exchange for human need and service--this, and the old dream of joy in righteous toil, this is the blessing of our world to-day!"
He paused. A little, swift-moving light upon the far horizon drew his eye. It seemed a star, traveling among its sister stars that now already had begun to twinkle palely in the darkening sky. But Allan knew its meaning.
"Look!" cried he and pointed. "Look, Beatrice! The West Coast Mail--the plane from southern California. The wireless told us it had started only three hours ago--and here it is already!"
"And but for you," she murmured, "none of all this could ever possibly have been. Oh, Allan, remember that song--our song? In the days of our first love, there on the Hudson, remember how I sang to you: "Stark wie der Fels, Tief wie das Meer, Muss deine Liebe, Muss deine Liebe sein?"
"I remember! And it has been so?"
Her answer was to draw his hand up to her lips and print a kiss there, and as she laid her cheek upon it he felt it wet with tears.
And night came; and now the wind lay dead; and upon the brooding earth, spangled with home-lights over hill and vale, the stars gazed calmly down.
The steady, powerful droning of the power-plant rose, blent with the soothing murmur of the rapids and the river.
"Seems like a lullaby--doesn't it, dearest?" murmured Allan. "You know--it won't be long now before it's good-by and--good night."
"I know," she answered. "We've lived, haven't we? Oh, Allan, no one ever lived, ever in all this world--lived as much as you and I have lived! Think of it all from the beginning till now. No one ever so much, so richly, so happily, so well!"
"No one, darling!"
"But, after toil, rest--rest is sweet, too. I shall be ready for it when it summons me. I shall go to it, content and brave and smiling. Only--"