“I have come from sea,” I answered. “It is a message from one you know.”
“From one I know—at sea? But I know no one at sea. Oh, sir, what is it you would tell me?”
“Let me come in,” I said; and she turned and led the way into the parlor, and set down the candle and looked steadily at me. And then she suddenly knew me, and in another instant I had her in my arms, and her face was upon my breast, and all the woes and sorrows of my captivity were forgotten.
“Humphrey!” she cried. “O, thank God—thank God! My dear, my dear, it is you, is it not? Am I dreaming—shall I wake presently to find you gone?”
“Never again, sweetheart, never again! I am come back indeed—somewhat changed, it is true, but still your true and faithful lover.”
“And I thought you were dead! O my poor Humphrey, where have you been and what has been done to you? Yes, you are changed—you have suffered, have you not?”
“More than I could wish my worst enemy to suffer,” I answered. “But I forget it all when I look at you, Rose. Oh, sweetheart, if you knew how I have longed for this moment!”
And then, hand in hand, we kneeled down together and thanked God for all his goodness, and for the marvelous mercy with which he had brought us through this time of sore trouble. And on our knees we kissed each other solemnly, and so sealed our reunion, and blotted out all the bitterness of the past from our hearts, so that there was nothing left there but memories, sad indeed, but no longer painful.
“And now,” said Rose, “tell me, Humphrey, where you have been and how it was you went away. Oh, if you knew how we have sorrowed for you.”