Leaning against the door, with his arms crossed over his broad chest, Dr. Hartwell stood, silently regarding her. She came close to him, and her extended arms trembled; still he did not move, did not speak.
"Oh, I knew you would come; and, thank God, now you are here. Come home at last!"
She looked up at him so eagerly; but he said nothing. She stood an instant irresolute, then threw her arms around his neck and laid her head on his bosom, clinging closely to him. He did not return the embrace, but looked down at the beaming face and sighed; then he put his hand softly on her head, and smoothed the rippling hair. A brilliant smile broke over her features, as she felt the remembered touch of his fingers on her forehead, and she repeated in the low tones of deep gladness:
"I knew you would come; oh, sir, I knew you would come back to me!"
"How did you know it, child?" he said, for the first time.
Her heart leaped wildly at the sound of the loved voice she had so longed to hear, and she answered tremblingly:
"Because for weary years I have prayed for your return. Oh, only God knows how fervently I prayed! and he has heard me."
She felt his strong frame quiver; he folded his arms about her, clasped her to his heart with a force that almost suffocated her, and, bending his head, kissed her passionately. Suddenly his arms relaxed their clasp; holding her off, he looked at her keenly, and said:
"Beulah Benton, do you belong to the tyrant Ambition, or do you belong to that tyrant Guy Hartwell? Quick, child; decide!"
"I have decided," said she. Her cheeks burned; her lashes drooped.