He saw Alix his wife, the sun on her hair, playing in the close with his little Philip.

Even now in the pleasant autumn weather that curly-pate would be scrambling in the orchard for the ripe apples which his mother rolled to him.

He had thought himself born for a high destiny.

Well, that destiny had been accomplished.

He would not die, but live in the son of his body, and his sacrifice would be eternally a spirit moving in the hearts of his seed.