He drew her head to his bosom, and there she told him all. And he realized how near he had come to losing her, how cunningly the plot had been laid, and in his heart he blessed his friend, Fredrich Weimher, that he had come in time to save her. When she finished, he said:
“My darling, I never penned one word of what you have repeated to me; both the letter and the paper which you signed were gross forgeries. You remember the dainty little bouquet which you threw to me; for a moment after I read the note which you concealed in it, I was so overwhelmed with joy—with the knowledge that you of all others were there to congratulate me upon my honors, that I was fairly dizzy; my head began to swim, and a mist was before my eyes. When I had collected myself sufficiently to glance at you, intending to look the love and joy I could not speak, you were leaving the hall. I started up, and was hastening after you, when a boy handed me a note, purporting to be from my father. It proved, like what you received, to be a forgery—a decoy to lure me here, where I have been detained as a prisoner ever since. You can imagine something of my agony and indignation, especially when I heard of the foul wrong that was being meditated against you. I have mourned and prayed, but all was of no avail. Now that I have you safe once again, I cannot be thankful enough.” He smiled, fondly drawing her closer to him, then added, slyly: “And if you really feel that you have signed away your right in me, why, we can make it all right again, in a very short time.”
She hid her now radiant and blushing face upon his shoulder, and whispered:
“But am I really and truly free from that horrid man—free to choose for myself?”
“Yes, Brightie, you are free to give your own precious self to whom you will. Must I ask again for my wife?”
He raised her head and gazed earnestly in her happy eyes. They told him all he wished to know, but her answer filled his cup of joy full to overflowing.
“No, Robbie; I am blessed indeed if you will take me the second time.”
Joyous tears glittered upon the heavy fringes of her eyes, and as he stooped and kissed her now scarlet lips she returned the caress with a pressure that thrilled to his heart’s core.
“Come,” she then said, starting up; “let me take you to auntie. There she sits, looking as if she could not wait for us much longer.”
They went down from the altar with beaming, radiant faces, and hand in hand approached the happy old lady, who had drawn Nina away the moment her darling had revived, feeling in the delicate kindness of her heart that their meeting was too sacred to be gazed curiously upon.