e sat on one of the ancient ruined walls of Middleham Castle, daydreaming on this warm Sunday afternoon in September.

The high-flung canopy of the sky was a pewter color, overcast and presaging rain, despite the sun which was valiantly trying to push through. It finally emerged from behind the bank of cumulus, and great rafts of brilliant silver light streamed across the heavens.

Shane lifted his head, looked up, was struck at once by the supernatural quality of that blinding light. It seemed to emanate from some hidden source behind those wild implacable hills, and it held a shimmering clarity, a pure radiance that was unearthly, made him catch his breath.

His dark brooding eyes swept across the sky, and then he glanced away, focused his attention on the ruined arch of Warwick's once great stronghold, his mind turning inward. He was lonely and alone, and yet he knew within his heart that he would find a measure of peace here in Yorkshire. He had made a decision when he had flown home from New York with Winston, at the beginning of this past week.

Shane O'Neill was going to end his long, self-imposed exile at last. There was too much painMn his life now to bring additional pain on himself, and that he would surely continue to do if he persisted in exiling himself. When he was not traveling the world, he would live here, surrounded by the beauty he had grown up with and which he so dearly loved. It was the one spot on this earth where he felt truly happy.

It would be hard for him at first, but he would manage somehow. He was a man, mature, intelligent, and he had always been strong. Somewhere he would find the courage to create a new life for himself without her. And he fully intended to live out that life here.

War Lord was tethered nearby, and he whinnied. Shane swung his head, looked about, expecting to see hikers or tourists. But he was still entirely alone. The ruined castle was deserted today, and there was little sign oflife except for the occasional call of a kingfisher or a curlew, the gawk-gawk cry of a seagull which had flown in from the North Sea. His eyes lifted to the rolling moors, ranged up against the skyline, glorious today as the heather bloomed and rippling below were the lush green slopes of the Dales.

Shane sat there for a long time, feasting his eyes on the landscape, enjoying its stunning beauty. The grandeur and majesty of this place never failed to touch his Celtic soul, which was so attuned to nature.

Suddenly he blinked, lifted his hand to shade his eyes. 'He saw a speck moving across the line of the hills, coming steadily down the bridlepath, heading in the direction of the castle.

When the lone horse and rider drew close, he stiffened on the wall and stared ahead, focusing his vision.

The rider was a young woman. She trotted at a brisk pace, handled the horse beautifully, showing great equestrian skill. Her long dark hair was blowing in the light breeze, streaming out behind a pale intense face.

In the passing of a moment, he felt his heart leap and begin to clatter abnormally against his rib cage. The rider was spurring the horse forward. He recognized his own mare, Celtic Maiden, and he knew that girl, so clearly visible in that shimmering northern light that washed the sky and the hills and the castle walls with its penetrating radiance.

It was his dreamlike child of his childhood dreams... riding through the dreamlike landscape of his childhood dreams... riding through the sunlight and the shadow... drawing nearer... nearer... nearer... raising her hand in greeting. His dreamlike child of his childhood dreams was coming to him... at last. But she had grown to womanhood now... as he was

a man now... she was the dreamlike woman he loved, had always loved, would always love until the day he died.

The thud of.the hooves on the rich dark earth drowned out the clattering of his heart. Slowly, disbelievingly, he rose from the wall, his eyes full of questions. But his face was still and without expression.

She swung down out of the saddle lightly, threw the reins over the tree stump where War Lord was tethered, took a step toward him, and stopped.

"I thought you were in New York," Shane heard his voice say. He was surprised that he sounded so controlled, so normal.

"I took the overnight flight from Kennedy to Manchester on Friday. Tilson picked me up yesterday and drove me back home... to Pennistone Royal."

"I see." Shane stepped back involuntarily, sat down on the wall, feeling weak.

She joined him on the old graystone wall and studied him for a long moment.

Neither of them spoke.

Finally Shane said, "What's happened to your face?"

"I fell. It's nothing."

"What are you doing here?"

"I came looking for you. Randolph told me where you were. I came to ask you something, Shane."

"Yes?"

"Would you please give me the ring... the ring Blackie gave to Emma?'

"You can have it if you want, Paula. She should have left it to you in the first place."

"No. She meant you to have it. She never made mistakes like that. And I wasn't asking you to give me the ring as... you know, as a gift." She hesitated only for the briefest second. "I want you to give it to me as your future wife."

He gaped at her.

She smiled at him.

Paula's uncanny violet eyes grew enormous in her pale face. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Shane. If you still want me."

He was incapable of answering. He put his arm around her and held her close to his shaking heart. And then he began to kiss her hair, her eyes, and finally her soft and tender lips. The kiss was deep and passionate, yet there was tenderness in it and a depth of feeling that sprang from the recent pain they had both endured.

They sat for a long time on the ruined wall of Middleham Castle, their arms around each other. They did not speak, lost for

a while in their own thoughts.

Paula felt safe at last now that she was with him. She would never leave him again. They would be together always until the

end of their days. They belonged together, were part of each other.

Shane, his eyes scanning the gaunt bleak silhouette of the castle, was filled with a sense of timelessness that he always experienced here. And then slowly he was enveloped in a new and wondrous peacefulness, and he knew it would never leave him now that she was to live with him for the rest of his life.

Paula murmured, "If only Blackie and Emma knew... if only they could see us together."

He looked into her face and smiled, and then he lifted his eyes to the dark hills, resplendent in that extraordinary supernatural light, his glance sweeping across the sky.

Then the Celt in him rose up, and he reached out and touched her face with gentleness. "Perhaps they can, Paula," Shane said, "perhaps they can."