'Thank you; as you say there has been fraud, I should be better satisfied to be able to tell Mr. Dynevor that the papers have never been out of my hands. I will call on you early to-morrow.'
Mr. Robson waited to make many inquiries for Mr. Dynevor's health, and to offer every attention to Lord Fitzjocelyn, to introduce him to the Consul, to find apartments for him, &c.; but at last he took leave, and Louis was free to turn to the motionless Mary, who had done nothing all this time but follow him with her eyes.
All his doubts had returned, and, in the crisis of his fate, he stood irresolute, daring neither to speak nor ask, lest feelings should be betrayed which might poison her happiness.
'Is it you?' were her first words, as though slowly awakening.
'It is I, come to be whatever you will let me be,' he answered, as best he could.
'Oh, Louis!' she said, 'this is too much!' And she hid her face in her hands.
'Tell me—one word, Mary, and I shall know what to do, and will not harass nor grieve you.'
'Grieve me! You!' exclaimed Mary, in an inexpressibly incredulous tone.
'Enough! It is as it was before!' and he drew her into his arms, as unresistingly as five years ago, and his voice sank with intense thankfulness, as he said, 'My Mary—my Mary! has He not brought it to pass?'
The tears came dropping from her eyes, and then she could speak.