“What a welcome!” he said, as the tears rose to his eyes—his eyes that were all unused to such moisture. “What a welcome, and how unworthy I am to receive it! Do angels always welcome returning sinners so, Erminie?” “Please do not speak of yourself so to me; to any one else you like, but not to me! I am your betrothed, and I will hear no ill of you, even from your own lips.” “No, no, Erminie! no, no, you angel girl! I have not come to bind again upon your young life bonds that were well broken years ago! I have forfeited all right to such great happiness! All that is changed!” “But my heart is not changed,” she murmured in a low tone, and blushing deeply. “My sweet child! when we were first betrothed I was twenty years older than you; although, being then in perfect health, I did not seem so. And my wealth was great, my social position high, and my name honored. Since that time all is revolutionized with me.” “But not with me; I am the same,” she murmured. “Look at me, Erminie! See what time, toil, care, war, grief, pain, remorse have done for me. I am old and gray and broken and mutilated,” he said. “But I love you,” she replied. “To-day I am a poor and penniless man. To-morrow I may be an exile, or a prisoner.” “But I love you,” she repeated. “And see—I am maimed! I have lost my right arm! And, worse than all, I have lost it in a bad cause!” “Poor right arm! I would I could give mine to restore it,” she said. “And oh, Erminie! my once spotless name is stained with reproach. Could you bear to wear it?” “Yes, for I love you! Oh, my dearest! I have but that one little phrase to answer all your words—‘I love you!’ Oh, my betrothed, I love you!” He caught her in his arm, he strained her to his bosom, he burst into tears and wept over her as only a strong man can weep. “And oh!” he cried, “what shall I render unto the Lord for all His loving kindness and tender mercy, in giving me this dear woman’s heart? For only Heaven Means CROWNED, not _humbled_, when it says ‘forgiven!’” So these two were reconciled, and this was but the forerunner of a deeper and broader reconciliation yet to come. General Eastworth, by the earnest invitation of Dr. Rosenthal, remained as a guest at the parsonage. At five o’clock in the afternoon Justin came in, accompanied by Mim and Ethel. And a very pleasant dinner party closed the day. It was very noticeable that Elfie, who had now nearly completed her first year of mourning, received young Ethel’s attentions with less of reserve than formerly. Colonel Fielding certainly smiled on the young naval officer’s suit. “Beyond my real esteem and admiration of the young fellow, and aside from my interest in my daughter’s happiness and well-being, I have really a selfish motive for wishing to promote this marriage,” the colonel said in explanation to Dr. Rosenthal. “And what may that be?” smiled the doctor.