He did not speak, but his arms softly stole around her, and hers enfolded him at first so lightly that he scarcely felt them. Lightly and softly at first, till suddenly with a double cry they were clasped together, and the disenchanted Fairyland of love burst and streamed in music and light and odor around them.
“Richard! Is it you?”
Holding him from her, with all her strength, her face impassioned, her eyes like stars, she gazed upon him, with her fervent cry still ringing in the twilight air.
“It is I. Forgive me, Emily. I love you.”
She impetuously drew him to her, and locked in each other’s arms, they were still.
The fairy prince had triumphed, and Witherlee’s work was quite undone!
CHAPTER XXII.
INTERSTITIAL.
That evening, visitor after visitor called, and the parlor was full of talk and music and laughter. Amidst her company, Muriel felt a lonely longing for the face of Harrington. He sometimes dropped in late, for a little while, and this evening, as ten o’clock approached and the guests began to depart, she half-hoped he would come. But he did not, and tired with her last night’s vigil, as with the fatigues of the day, she went to rest as soon as the last visitor had said good night.