"But I can divest myself of Netherwood," she exclaimed, and sprung from my side with flashing eyes. Then with tremulous hands she unlocked an ebony cabinet, and after a rapid search, came to me with a folded document, saying, "Look, Basil, do you know this handwriting?"
"It is that of old Nathan Wylie, our grandfather's solicitor; I should know it well."
"Then read this paper, which he prepared and drew up a few weeks ago, at my especial request."
I perused it with astonishment!
It was what is legally or technically termed a "Disposition," by which Aurora divested herself of Netherwood, lands, estate, and everything, bestowing them upon me during her lifetime, with remainder to me and my heirs at her decease.
I had learned enough of law during my residence with old Nathan Wylie, the framer of this new document, to know how full, ample, and generous it was, and while I rapidly scanned it from the preamble at the beginning to the signature of Aurora at the end, she stood near me with her cheeks flushing, her eyes full of tears, and her poor little hands trembling.
"Oh, Aurora!" I exclaimed in bewilderment.
"Now cousin, do you believe me—now do you deem me sincere in wishing, at every risk, to soothe your angry pride?" she asked, with a shower of nervous tears. "None can now say that you wedded me to recover a lost patrimony, for yours it was, and is, most justly."
"Dearest Aurora, I would rather owe its restoration in another fashion, but still, my beloved, to you. Behold!" and I put the deed in the fire, where it shrivelled and was consumed in a moment.
I had no more words for the occasion, but pressed Aurora to my breast. I felt that she was indeed my own—all my own; that we should be all the world to each other, and that our future would be a life of love.