The old servant at the same time returned and told her that the door was locked as usual.
“You remain here, Dulcibella—no—I shan’t take a candle,” and with a heavy sigh she left the room, and treading lightly descended the stairs, and entered a wainscoted room, on the ground floor—with two windows, through which came a faint reflected light. Standing close to the nearer of these was the man with whom she had exchanged from the upper room the signals I have mentioned.
CHAPTER VIII.
NEVER DID RUN SMOOTH.
Swiftly she went to the window and raised it without noise, and in a moment they were locked in each other’s arms.
“Darling, darling,” was audible; and—
“Oh, Ry! do you love me still?”
“Adore you, darling! adore you, my little violet, that grew in the shade—my only, only darling.”
“And I have been so miserable. Oh, Ry—that heart-breaking disappointment—that dreadful moment—you’ll never know half I felt; as I knocked at that door, expecting to see my own darling’s face—and then—I could have thrown myself from the rock over that glen. But you’re here, and I have you after all—and now I must never lose you again—never, never.”
“Lose me, darling; you never did, and never shall; but I could not go—I dare not. Every fellow, you know, owes money, and I’m in that sorry plight like the rest, and just what I told you would have happened, and that you know would have been worse; but I think that’s all settled, and lose me! not for one moment ever can you lose me, my beautiful idol.”
“Oh, yes—that’s so delightful, and Ry and his poor violet will be so happy, and he’ll never love any one but her.”