"And that," said Vivian gaily, "will endure for the rest of our lives."
Beatrice took the old servant's hand. "There is only one thing to settle," she said sweetly: "Durban is to give me to you at the altar."
"Oh, missy--me--no--no--a black--a half black!"
"You are a whole white," said Vivian quickly, and taking the good old fellow's other hand. "Beatrice is right. You have stood to her in the place of her father and mother, and you have shielded her from a thousand dangers. You shall come to the wedding and give your treasure to me."
"Sir--missy----" Durban could say nothing more; his eyes filled with tears and he hastily retreated.
"Joyful tears, good old soul!" said Vivian, again gathering Beatrice to his breast. "He'll come and live with us, Beatrice, and we'll turn that horrible Camp into a jungle. Never more will we talk of the past, and--and----"
"Vivian, Vivian! How you run on!"
"I am too happy to be sensible. What are those birds we hear singing, saying, my sweetest?"
"Praise God, from whom all blessings flow!" was the unexpected answer of Beatrice.
Vivian's face grew grave. "I think we will, and now," he said; and with his future wife in his arms he breathed a prayer of thankfulness to the merciful Father who had brought them both to a safe haven.