Slowly the hours dragged by, relieved only by the plash, plash of the waves against the castle walls, or the sighs of the sick man.

Then within a while he spoke again. "My wife," he said, "when morning comes, look across the sea, and tell me if you see a ship coming, and if its sails be black or white, that I may the sooner be out of this miserable uncertainty."

Obediently she rose, and sat watching until the first ray of dawn, when, skimming over the sea through the morning mist, she saw the dainty 'Swan,'

with her white sails like wings gleaming through the dimness. Over the wide waters she flew, until she drew close to the castle, and the anchor was cast. Then from out her sprang Ganhardine, and following quickly after him came La Belle Iseult. Too impatient to wait for help she sprang lightly on the sh.o.r.e, and stood there breathless, eager, glad.

And so for the first time Iseult la Blanche Mains saw that other Iseult, and as she stood on the sh.o.r.e in her white gown, with her golden hair falling out under her hood like a mantle over her shoulders, the unhappy wife marvelled not that Tristram loved so fair a creature, and her heart sank at sight of her beauty, and fiercer burnt her jealousy.

"They come," she said sullenly, turning to her husband.

"Ah!" he cried, with a deep groan of intolerable suspense. "Of thy mercy tell me, and do not torture me!"

"The sails are black," she answered in a cold, hard voice.

Then was the terrified woman sore afraid, for with a mighty effort Sir Tristram sprang from his bed, and took one step across the floor, and in a voice that made even her heart throb and bleed with pity, "Iseult--my love--my love!" he cried. Then a sudden darkness falling upon him, he flung out his arms as though to catch at something. "Iseult--Iseult--my love--come--to me!" he gasped in broken tones, and with a thud fell at his wife's feet, dead.

"I come, my love, I come!" rang out a sweet voice, full of love and tenderness and joy; and up the castle steps flew La Belle Iseult, and across the hall to where he lay. And never a look she gave at the pale, unhappy wife. Never a glance at aught beside that form.

"Tristram, my beloved! I am here. I am with you--with you for all time,"

she cried, flinging herself on her knees beside him. And never another word did she speak,--for when they raised her, her spirit had followed his to where none could part them more.

So died those two who had lived and loved so sadly and so truly. And when he was dead there was found round Sir Tristram's sword-belt the story of the fatal love-draught, and when he read it deep was the grief and bitter the remorse of King Mark that he had ever parted those two so bound together, and driven them to such despair.

Once more 'The Swan' sailed over the sea to Tintagel, and this time she bore Sir Tristram and his love together, for side by side they were to be buried in a dainty chapel made for them alone, that at last they should never more be parted.

But in time the sea, jealous for those lovers whose doom she had seen, came up and drew that dainty chapel into her own bosom. And there, where none can see them, the lovers sleep in peace for evermore, wrapped round and guarded by the blue waters of the deep Atlantic sea.