“No, it isn’t. It’s not her ring,” cried Elfie.
Then both paused and listened while Old Bob opened the door.
A minute passed, and then the library door was opened by the old man, who announced:
“Madame Vittorio Corsoni!”
And to the unbounded astonishment of the two girls, she who was once Alberta Goldsborough entered the room.
“Oh, Alberta! Alberta! I am so glad to see you, love!” exclaimed Erminie, forgetting the guerrilla’s wife, and impulsively springing up to meet with an overflowing welcome her beloved old schoolmate.
Elfie never budged.
“Glad—glad to see me whom you Unionists term a rebel? In truth, I had not expected this, Erminie,” said the visitor, pushing farther off her face the long rusty black veil that had nearly concealed it.
Erminie’s countenance changed, her frame trembled, and her tones vibrated with emotion, as she replied:
“I am grieved, Heaven knows how deeply grieved to hear you say so, Alberta.”