CHAPTER XX.
“ALL THE WORLD AND WE TWO, AND HEAVEN BE OUR STAY.”
Alston Mead had never fully recognized before all the rare beauty of Leola, for until now it had been shadowed by her secret sorrow—the thorn that was always piercing her heart.
When the girl looked up at him now her eyes were like stars, sudden roses had bloomed on her cheeks, and her lips were trembling with smiles of joy.
“Oh, it is like some sweet dream!” she cried, half fearfully, her white hands clasped above her wildly throbbing heart.
“It is no dream, my darling; it is a blissful reality,” her father cried. “Your lover has always been true and noble, and worthy of your deepest devotion. For months he has been seeking for you everywhere, and our fortunate rencontre this morning has filled his heart with joy.”
“Oh, papa! you have then seen Ray—Chester, I mean!” she began, in wild agitation, but he interrupted her, smilingly:
“Call him Ray if you choose, dear—his name is Raphael Chester Olyphant, you see. Yes, your true lover is in Paris to-day. He crossed with your friends to seek for you. He will be here by-and-by to see you, but I promised to tell you everything first, for he does not know whether you will forgive him for deceiving you under the guise of the poor artist.”
She cried, radiantly:
“I am glad of it now, for he knows I loved him for himself alone, and he can never doubt my devotion. Oh, I can scarcely realize my happiness! It seems like some beautiful dream.”