When Erminie looked up her father was gone, and her lover stood in his place.
Pale, silent, sorrowful, mutilated, General Eastworth stood there, looking down upon Erminie.
Her hands flew out to meet him.
“Oh, welcome! welcome! welcome!” she exclaimed, with all her heart’s warmth welling up in the words.
“You welcome me, Miss Rosenthal! You welcome me?” he whispered, in tones scarcely above his breath.
“With all my heart and soul! A thousand, thousand welcomes!” she cried, with almost overpowering emotion.
“I come to you, Miss Rosenthal, to hear you confirm, if you will, the gracious words you spoke to me on your bed of illness near death, that night I came to your room at the risk of my life!”
“Then that was no dream! you were really beside me there!” she exclaimed, wonderingly.
“I was really beside you there. Did you doubt it?”
“I was so ill that night, I never could feel certain of what happened. And no one was able to assure me upon all points. But sit down! oh, sit! How pale you are! You are not fit to stand!” she said.