"I have just learned, Florry, that Mr. Stewart is not married."
"Mary, Mary! why touch a chord which ever vibrates with the keenest agony? There is no happiness for me on earth—I have known that for long, and now I am striving to fix my thoughts, and all of hope that remains, on heaven."
Mary linked her arm in Florence's, and gently drawing her forward, replied:
"God has not promised heaven as the price of every earthly joy and comfort. Can you not still hope for happiness?"
"Mary, I am parted forever from him whom I have loved so devotedly; yet I cease to repine. I know my lot, and I will pass through life alone, yes, alone, without a murmur."
"Not so, Florence—my own treasured Florence!"
She turned quickly, and was clasped to the heart of him she had sworn to love alone.
"Am I dreaming?" said Florence, gazing eagerly up into the noble face before her. He lifted his cap from his brow, and bent his head that the light might fall full upon it. A gleam of perfect joy irradiated her beautiful face, and, leaning her head on his shoulder, she whispered: "Forgive me—for I doubted you."
He bent, and sealed her pardon with a long kiss.
Mary stole away to Mrs. Carlton to impart the good news; Dr. Bryant had already communicated it. Warmly she sympathized with them in again meeting an old friend; but Mary heeded not her words, for her eyes were riveted on Frank's stern brow and slightly curling lip. A mist rose before her, and catching for support at the tent, she would have fallen, had not his strong arm encircled her; and soon she lay motionless in her tent. He stood and looked on her a moment, then knelt and clasped the cold hands. Mary had not swooned, though well-nigh insensible, and a low moan of anguish escaped her lips, colorless, and writhing with pain.