"To bring you home, uncle Rolf."
"Home!" said he, with an accent between bitterness and despair.
"Yes, for it's all over, it's all forgotten--there is no more to be said about it at all," said Fleda, getting her words out she didn't know how.
"What is forgotten?" said he harshly.
"All that you would wish, sir," replied Fleda softly and gently;--"there is no more to be done about it; and I came to tell you if possible before it was too late. Oh I'm so glad!--" and her arms and her cheek pressed closer as fresh tears stopped her voice.
"How do you know, Fleda?" said Mr. Rossitur raising his head and bringing hers to his shoulder, while his arms in turn enclosed her.
Fleda whispered, "He told me so himself."
"Who?"
"Mr. Thorn."
The words were but just spoken above her breath. Mr. Rossitur was silent for some time.