His weak arms encircled her, and the pale lips pressed passionate kisses on the tear-wet face.
So while the glory of the sunset lay on the sea, and until the stars spangled the sky, the reunited lovers sat in the soft haze, as Adam and Eve may have sat in the loveliness of Eden.
"How long since you left England?" Rupert asked, at length.
"Two years ago; poor papa died in the South of France—you mustn't blame him too much, Rupert."
"My dearest, we will talk of blaming no one. And Guy and May are married? I knew they would be."
"Did you? I was so surprised when I read it in the Times; for you know May and I never corresponded—she was frantically angry with me. Do they know you are here?"
"No, I rarely write, and I am constantly moving about; but I know that Guy is very much beloved in St. Gosport. We will go back to England, one of these days, my darling, and give them the greatest surprise they have received since Guy Thetford learned who he really was."
He smiled as he said it—the old bright smile she remembered so well. Tears of joy filled the beautiful upturned eyes.
"And you will go back? O Rupert! it needed but this to complete my happiness."
He drew her closer, and then there was a long delicious silence, while they watched together the late-rising moon climbing the misty hills above Castellamare.