Little by little I told my story, but I could not refrain from my love for her, for one was so involved with the other that they could not be sundered. I told all with the exception of my fortune in the Brazilian mines. She seemed interested with the interest of a friend. I gazed at her after my tale was finished, and with the melancholy thought of what I had aspired to and what I had lost. She smiled, and I thought she was laughing at my presumption in laying my poor affections at her feet. It enraged me, and I arose to go. "One moment," she said; "I have news for you; your mother is found and your father is with her, but I have other matters to mention." This was the solitary joy that now filled me and life seemed brighter. "I was expecting some one this evening." "Yes," I said, the clouds again coming over my soul; "yes, I know." "No, you do not know; I was expecting some one, and, as you rightly surmised, I love him." "Aye," I murmured, for she seemed cruel, "and you could not love another?" "No, no, I could not love another. You would not desire to see me unhappy and poor?" "No," I said, doggedly, digging with my heel in the turf. "Suppose I had the opportunity to marry," she said, mischievously, and with a merry light scintillating in her eyes, "to marry one who would give me wealth, happiness, love, and my old home, who took me on a long ride of twenty miles and told me of these things, would you say, 'No.'" "No," I said, sadly, "marry where your heart directs you." "But suppose he was Mr. Richard Lanyan?" I bounded to my feet as if shot. Oh, what a demoniacal thing is hatred! Humbled and sad at the loss of her, the thought of one of that accursed race possessing her seemed like turning my blood from freezing coldness to boiling heat. My countenance must have been frightful; it terrified her. I could not speak. She trembled and drew away from me and hastily said, "But suppose I did not love him?" I was dumbfounded, and she continued, earnestly, while her eyes beamed with a new light. "Suppose I did not love him? I was expecting him whom I loved--yes, loved from girlhood; I mourned him as dead, yet loved him more and more, and after many years I saw him at a Floraday in the Angel Inn ballroom. I saw him push through the crowd and I came here expecting him. I love him and could not love another,--and--and--and--Oh--Ande,--can't you see?" Change darkness into sunlight and my feelings can be expressed. The full light of all seemed to burst upon my vision and dazed me; then as I saw more clearly, I recollect her stretching her arms toward me, and my leaping forward to clasp that wavering form. Here the incident in the diary closes, and it remained for others to relate what happened afterward. They sat down again in the arbour and her head was on his shoulder. "And you did love me, after all," said Ande, and the old, happy, boyish smile illuminated his features.