The picture of his mother floated before his vision, that of his child,
and of his beautiful work, the great indestructible cathedral, which he
had erected to the honour of God. He reflected what sweet joy each new
spring had brought him, how he had been blessed in his work, what
exquisite delight he derived from all that was beautiful in the world.
No, no, no. Of all the men on this earth, he, the child destined to
misfortune, was the happiest. Overwhelmed by a feeling of gratitude, he
returned his wife's kiss. Saved! She was saved! He felt firm ground
beneath his feet; he lifted her on high; but, just as he laid her in the
strong arms that reached down from the cliff to receive her, a high wave
caught him and dragged him back into the deep, and the waters closed over
him.
The next morning a fisherman found his body. George's wife and mother
were saved. The wise men of the land said that the ill-starred child had
perished, as they had foreseen, and the people echoed their words.
In the mausoleum of the Greylocks only two places remained empty, and
these had to be kept for Wendelin the Lucky and his queen, consequently
the ill-omened son might not even rest in the grave of his fathers, and
George was buried on a green hillside, whence there was a beautiful view
of the lake and distant landscape.
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