“It has always been yours,” she murmured; but, alas! those sweet blushes were lost on her blind lover.
“Yes, I know it now; Margaret has helped me to understand things. I know now, you poor child, that you looked upon Mona as your rival; that you thought I was false to you; that in my ignorance I made you endure tortures. It is I who ought to ask your pardon, love, for all I made you suffer.”
“No, no.”
“We must both be wiser for the future. Now put your hand in mine, Crystal, and tell me that you are content to take the blind man for your husband, that the thought of a long life beside him does not frighten you; that you really love me well enough to be my wife;” and, as he turned his sightless face toward her, Crystal raised herself and kissed his blind eyes softly. “‘She loved much,’” she whispered, “‘because much had been forgiven her.’ Oh, how true that is; I deserve only to be hated, and you follow me across the world to ask me to be your wife. Your love has conquered, Raby; from this day your will shall be mine.”
* * * * * *
Miss Campion had passed a long morning at the springs, wandering about the pleasant grounds with an American friend. Crystal would have finished her letter to Fern Trafford long ago, she thought, as she walked quickly down the hot road, and would be waiting for luncheon. She was not a little surprised then when, on reaching the cottage, she heard the sound of voices, and found herself confronting a very tall man in clerical dress, whose head seemed almost to touch the low ceiling, while a sweet-looking woman, in a long gray cloak and Quakerish bonnet, was standing holding Crystal’s hand.
“Dear Miss Campion,” exclaimed Crystal, with a vivid blush that seemed to give her new beauty, “some English friends of mine have just arrived. Mr. Ferrers and his sister.” But Raby’s deep voice interrupted her.
“Crystal is not introducing us properly; she does not mention the fact that she is engaged to me; and that my sister is her cousin; so it is necessary for me to explain matters.”
“Is this true, child?” asked Miss Campion in a startled voice; and, as though Crystal’s face were sufficient answer, she continued archly, “Do you mean that this is ‘he,’ Crystal—the ideal we were talking about last night in the moonlight?”
“Oh, hush!” returned Crystal, much confused at this, for she knew by this time that there had been silent auditors to that girlish outburst. But Raby’s hand pressed hers meaningly.