“Dear papa!” she cried, inquiringly, springing up to meet him.
“Viola, we are fortunate, most fortunate, in our quest. Rolfe Maxwell has been set free, and arrived in Havana this very morning!” he exclaimed, gladly.
“Dear Heaven, I thank Thee!” she cried, fervently, tears of wild joy starting to her brilliant, upraised eyes, while she trembled violently with joyful emotion.
To have loved and lost, and to find again, what rapture! Will not this be one of the supremest joys of Heaven when we “cross the moaning bar” and find waiting for us on the golden shore the dear ones who went from us through the dark portals of death to endless life?
It was joy akin to this that thrilled Viola at her father’s words.
Reading through his tenderness her yearning thought, the judge continued:
“I have prepared a pleasant surprise for your husband, Viola. I have sent a messenger to bring him here to us, simply saying that some American friends long very much to see him.”
“Then he will be coming—directly!” gasped Viola, dizzy with joy.
“Yes, dear, and I shall give directions to have him come directly to your private parlor, so that you can receive him first alone, as naturally that will be most proper,” added the judge, kindly.
Viola could not speak for emotion; she could only look her fervent gratitude as he turned to the door, saying: