‘But—’ said the earl, incredulously, ‘who was drowned then? They told me you were drowned, Nell. How has this mistake arisen, or have I been deceived by design?’
‘Oh, Vernie, I did drown myself; that is, I tried to—I wanted to—I felt I could not live, my darling, without you or your love. What was there for me to live for, Vernie, when you were gone?’
All the earl’s remorse—all the hard things he had thought of himself, and all the kind thoughts he had had of her, since he had learnt how they parted, rushed back upon his mind now, and he, too, forgot everything, except that his conscience had been relieved from an intolerable burden, and that the woman he held in his arms had loved him faithfully for many years.
He laid his mouth upon hers, and kissed her as warmly in return as ever he had done in the days gone by.
‘Thank God, it is not true!’ he exclaimed. ‘Oh, my poor Nell, I have suffered hell in thinking you had died by your own hand for my sake.’
‘I, too, have been in hell,’ she whispered. ‘Oh, Vernie, why did you leave me? I loved you so.’
‘I was a brute,’ replied the earl, ‘an ungrateful, selfish brute; but I will make you amends for it, if I die.’
What amends could he make her, except by giving her back the love he had seemed to withdraw? Nell thought of no other; she would have accepted no other. She held her heaven in her arms now—and all the troubles of life had faded away.
‘Your love, your love! I only want your love, Vernie,’ she whispered.
‘You have it, darling. You always had it,’ replied Ilfracombe, as he gazed at the lovely face upturned to his in the moonlight. ‘But how thin and pale you are, Nell. You are not like the same girl. What has happened, dear, to change you so?’