Grantley Mellen held his wife to his heart and whispered fond and loving words, such as he had breathed during their brief courtship before a shadow clouded over the beauty of their lives.
"There shall be no more clouds," he whispered, "no more trouble. Look up, Elizabeth! Say that you love me—that you are glad as I am."
"I do love you, my husband—with all my heart and soul I love you! I am glad—very, very glad."
"And I love you, Bessie. I did not know how well until I went away. But we shall never part any more—never more."
Elizabeth was weeping drops as cold as the rain on her face. It was unusual for her to allow any feeling of joy or pain to overcome her so completely.
"You are weak and nervous to-night, Bessie," he said, tenderly. "I was wrong to come upon you so suddenly."
"No, no!" she cried, vehemently. But even in her denial she shuddered, remembering whom she had just left and how she had met her husband.
Then she arose to go, but staggered in her walk and held herself up with difficulty. He looked at her with such tender love in his eyes that she held out her arms to him. He drew her close to his bosom:
"Elizabeth, we will be happy now."
"Yes, yes," she said, in the same hurried manner, "we will be happy now—quite happy."