“No, darling, you are not dead, but, thank Heaven, living, breathing still, and my own little wife once again.”
“Where am I?” she asked, glancing above at the brilliant, sparkling vault, with a perplexed look.
“Safe, safe, my precious, and nothing shall ever part us again.”
She closed her eyes again wearily, and heaving a deep, satisfied sigh, as a tired child in its mother’s arms might have done, laid her soft cheek against his throbbing heart.
He watched her anxiously for a few moments, until suddenly he saw the crimson tide of life surge swiftly up, covering her fair face with its deepest hue.
Then an expression of keenest anguish settled around her quivering lips, and plowed deep furrows in the smooth white brow, and with a quick motion she slid from his clasping arms, covering her face with her hands.
“What is it, darling? Come back to me again,” he said, earnestly, while a pained look settled over his features.
But when he would have taken her to him, she motioned him away.
“No, no I cannot, I dare not—they have married me to—to—oh, heaven! it shall not be, I will not have it so!” she shudderingly answered, while she crouched in anguish at his feet.
He knelt beside her, and again drew her to him, saying: