We wandered among little gorges: she was happy, for she was a joyous young girl, set free in nature's haunts. I was happy because by my side was my own—my Heaven given mate, the rib taken from my long ago progenitor, and now given back to me. Grown somewhat tired, we sat upon the grass covered root of an upturned tree. I said something, I remember not what, my companion started; I noticed and adverted to it.
"Mr. Felden, do you know you frequently startle me. I seem to hear in your voice a tone I have heard before, or have listened to in my dreams." I felt the hour had come.
"Miss Rita. I owe to you a confession. I am not what I am." I spoke with all the pathos practice among wild and dangerous people had made me master of.
"Listen to me, Rita, pardon my familiarity: but you will forgive me when I have finished."
I rapidly gave her the story of my life, and dwelt upon the meeting with her sister at the flower show, and the hold it took upon me. Again she started, and was about to speak, when with a motion, I stilled her tongue. I spoke of my long wanderings, and then of my seeing her at the Burnett and thinking her the lady of the flower show.
I told her of my visit to Boston. The color left her face, and she faltered out—"I knew it—I see it now, you are Mr. Ford," and crimsoned from neck to the roots of her glossy hair.
"Yes, Rita, I am John ——. I am Jack Ford; and now Jack Felden tells you that he loves you—he worships you and would make you his wife and would be happy,—would make you his wife, his Queen—and would, too, make you happy."
I paused and grasped her hand—she did not withdraw it. For a moment she was silent, and then raising her dark confiding eyes to mine, she said in low tones:
"Thank God, Jack, I have not dreamed and prayed in vain. I will be your wife—I will cling to you through life, and will rest by your side in death."
I drew her unresisting form to my heart, I kissed her lips in one long kiss, and saw, within the gates ajar, the paradise awaiting me.