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at your word； I followed your advice； I asked you to marry me； and
this is the delightful resultwhat's the matter？〃
Margaret had started suddenly； and her hand tightened on my arm。
An old woman was coming up the path； and was close to us before we
saw her； for the moon had risen； and was shining full in our faces。
The woman turned out to be my old nurse。
〃It's only Judith； deardon't be frightened；〃 I said。 Then I
spoke to the Welshwoman： 〃What are you about； Judith？ Have you
been feeding the Woman of the Water？〃
〃Ayewhen the clock strikes； Williemy Lord； I mean；〃 muttered
the old creature； drawing aside to let us pass； and fixing her
strange eyes on Margaret's face。
〃What does she mean？〃 asked Margaret； when we had gone by。
〃Nothing； darling。 The old thing is mildly crazy； but she is a
good soul。〃
We went on in silence for a few moments； and came to the rustic
bridge just above the artificial grotto through which the water ran
out into the park； dark and swift in its narrow channel。 We
stopped； and leaned on the wooden rail。 The moon was now behind
us； and shone full upon the long vista of basins and on the huge
walls and towers of the Castle above。
〃How proud you ought to be of such a grand old place！〃 said
Margaret； softly。
〃It is yours now； darling；〃 I answered。 〃You have as good a right
to love it as Ibut I only love it because you are to live in it；
dear。〃
Her hand stole out and lay on mine； and we were both silent。 Just
then the clock began to strike far off in the tower。 I counted
eightninetenelevenI looked at my watchtwelvethirteenI
laughed。 The bell went on striking。
〃The old clock has gone crazy； like Judith；〃 I exclaimed。 Still it
went on； note after note ringing out monotonously through the still
air。 We leaned over the rail； instinctively looking in the
direction whence the sound came。 On and on it went。 I counted
nearly a hundred； out of sheer curiosity； for I understood that
something had broken and that the thing was running itself down。
Suddenly there was a crack as of breaking wood； a cry and a heavy
splash； and I was alone； clinging to the broken end of the rail of
the rustic bridge。
I do not think I hesitated while my pulse beat twice。 I sprang
clear of the bridge into the black rushing water； dived to the
bottom； came up again with empty hands； turned and swam downward
through the grotto in the thick darkness； plunging and diving at
every stroke； striking my head and hands against jagged stones and
sharp corners； clutching at last something in my fingers and
dragging it up with all my might。 I spoke； I cried aloud； but
there was no answer。 I was alone in the pitchy darkness with my
burden； and the house was five hundred yards away。 Struggling
still； I felt the ground beneath my feet； I saw a ray of moonlight…
…the grotto widened； and the deep water became a broad and shallow
brook as I stumbled over the stones and at last laid Margaret's
body on the bank in the park beyond。
〃Aye； Willie； as the clock struck！〃 said the voice of Judith； the
Welsh nurse； as she bent down and looked at the white face。 The
old woman must have turned back and followed us； seen the accident；
and slipped out by the lower gate of the garden。 〃Aye；〃 she
groaned； 〃you have fed the Woman of the Water this night； Willie；
while the clock was striking。〃
I scarcely heard her as I knelt beside the lifeless body of the
woman I loved； chafing the wet white temples and gazing wildly into
the wide…staring eyes。 I remember only the first returning look of
consciousness； the first heaving breath； the first movement of
those dear hands stretching out toward me。
That is not much of a story； you say。 It is the story of my life。
That is all。 It does not pretend to be anything else。 Old Judith
says my luck turned on that summer's night when I was struggling in
the water to save all that was worth living for。 A month later
there was a stone bridge above the grotto； and Margaret and I stood
on it and looked up at the moonlit Castle； as we had done once
before； and as we have done many times since。 For all those things
happened ten years ago last summer； and this is the tenth Christmas
Eve we have spent together by the roaring logs in the old hall；
talking of old times； and every year there are more old times to
talk of。 There are curly…headed boys； too； with red…gold hair and
dark…brown eyes like their mother's； and a little Margaret； with
solemn black eyes like mine。 Why could not she look like her
mother； too； as well as the rest of them？
The world is very bright at this glorious Christmas time； and
perhaps there is little use in calling up the sadness of long ago；
unless it be to make the jolly firelight seem more cheerful； the
good wife's face look gladder； and to give the children's laughter
a merrier ring； by contrast with all that is gone。 Perhaps； too；
some sad…faced； listless； melancholy youth； who feels that the
world is very hollow； and that life is like a perpetual funeral
service； just as I used to feel myself； may take courage from my
example； and having found the woman of his heart； ask her to marry
him after half an hour's acquaintance。 But； on the whole； I would
not advise any man to marry； for the simple reason that no man will
ever find a wife like mine； and being obliged to go farther； he
will necessarily fare worse。 My wife has done miracles； but I will
not assert that any other woman is able to follow her example。
Margaret always said that the old place was beautiful； and that I
ought to be proud of it。 I dare say she is right。 She has even
more imagination than I。 But I have a good answer and a plain one；
which is this；that all the beauty of the Castle comes from her。
She has breathed upon it all； as the children blow upon the cold
glass window panes in winter； and as their warm breath crystallizes
into landscapes from fairyland； full of exquisite shapes and
traceries upon the blank surface； so her spirit has transformed
every gray stone of the old towers； every ancient tree and hedge in
the gardens； every thought in my once melancholy self。 All that
was old is young； and all that was sad is glad； and I am the
gladdest of all。 Whatever heaven may be； there is no earthly
paradise without woman； nor is there anywhere a place so desolate；
so dreary； so unutterably miserable that a woman cannot make it
seem heaven to the man she loves and who loves her。
I hear certain cynics laugh； and cry that all that has been said
before。 Do not laugh； my good cynic。 You are too small a man to
laugh at such a great thing as love。 Prayers have been said before
now by many； and perhaps you say yours； too。 I do not think they
lose anything by being repeated； nor you by repeating them。 You
say that the world is bitter； and full of the Waters of Bitterness。
Love； and so live that you may be lovedthe world will