It was a lonely beach with great driftwood logs whereon they sat and rested ere they took hands again and walked forth on their way.

In his dream Maud was kind, her teasing, disdainful mood quite gone.

So Sholto awoke smiling, but in a moment he wished that he had slept on.
He lay a space, becoming conscious of a pain in his heart--the overnight pain of a great disaster not yet realised.

For a little he knew not what it was.

Then he saw himself lying at Maud's open door, and he remembered--first the death of his masters, then the loss of the little maid, and lastly that of Maud, his own winsome sweetheart Maud.