"He said to go 'straight up'!" she laughed.

He laughed, too; all the world seemed laughing. He hardly knew what he
said, how she answered; only that she was there, slender, beautiful, as
the springtime full of flowers; that a miracle had happened, was
happening. The mottled blur in the sky had become a spot of brightness;
sunshine filled the room; in a cage above, a tiny feathered creature
began to chirp.

"And Sir Charles? Lady Wray?" He spoke quietly, but with wild pulsing of
temples, exultant fierce throbbing of heart; he held her from all the
world.

"They?" She was silent a moment; then looked up with a touch of her old,
bright imperiousness. "My uncle loves me, has never denied me anything,
and he will not in this--that is, if I tell him--"

"What?"

Did her lips answer; or was it only in her wilful, smiling eyes that he
read what he sought?

"Jocelyn!"

Above the little bird, with a red spot on its breast, bent its bead-like
eyes on them; but neither saw, noticed. Besides, it was only a successor
to the bird that had once been hers; that had flown like a flashing
jewel from her soul to his, in that place, seawashed, remote from the
world.