There was a great flashing of light before her eyes, and within her ears the roaring as of a thousand seas, and her head sank gently on her lover's breast as on a pillow; and there Jess died and passed upward towards the wider life and larger liberty, or, at the least, downward into the depths of rest.
Poor dark-eyed, deep-hearted Jess! This was the fruition of her love, and this her bridal bed.
It was done.

She had gone, taking with her the secret of her self-sacrifice and crime, and the night-winds moaning amidst the rocks sang their requiem over her.

Here she first had learned her love, and here she closed its book on earth.
She might have been a great and a good woman.

She might even have been a happy woman.

But fate had ordained it otherwise.