“Is there not some one whom you love? One who holds your plighted faith?” asked Kate.
“There was one,” and as Virginia spoke, the tears came slowly into her eyes. Back to her memory came the scene in the ravine. In imagination she felt again the warm, passionate kiss of the man she loved so well; then, an instant after, saw him stretched bleeding and senseless upon the earth at her feet.
“There is one now. You speak of Harvey Winthrop?”
“Yes!” cried Virginia, almost breathlessly.
“He is living.”
“Living?”
“Yes.”
Virginia sprung to her feet, her face flushed with joy.
“Oh! and I have mourned him as one lost to me forever.”
“By a happy chance I discovered him in the ravine, helpless. Then I carried him to my cabin and he is there now.”