For a moment or two, Edith did not raise her eyes, and her lips moved. She heard a step in the room, that made her heart flutter; she heard the door shut; but yet for an instant she remained with her head bent, and her hands clasped together. Then she looked up. Standing before her, and gazing intently upon her, was a tall handsome man, dressed in the splendid uniform of the dragoons of that time, and with a star upon his left breast--a decoration worn by persons who had the right to do so, more frequently in those days than at the present time. But it was to the face that Edith's eyes were turned--to the countenance well known and deeply loved. Changed though it was--grave where it had been gay, pale where it had been florid, sterner in the lines, once so full of gentle youth--still all the features were there, and the expression too, though saddened, was the same. He gazed on her with a look full of tenderness and love; and their eyes met. On both of them the feelings of other years seemed to rush with overpowering force. The interval which had since occurred, for a moment, was annihilated; the heart went back with the rapid wing of Memory, to the hours of joy that were gone; and Leyton opened wide his arms, exclaiming, "Edith! Edith!" She could not resist. She had no power to struggle. Love, stronger than herself, was master; and, starting up, she cast herself upon his bosom, and there wept. "Dear, dear girl!" he said, "then you love me still,--then Digby's assurance is true--then you have not forgotten poor Harry Leyton--then his preserving hope, his long endurance, his unwavering love, his efforts, his success, have not been all in vain!--Dear, dear Edith! This hour repays me for all--for all. Dangers and adversities, and wounds, and anguish of body and of mind, and sleepless nights, and days of bitter thought--I would endure them all. All?--ay, tenfold all--for this one hour!" and he pressed her closer and closer to his heart. "Nay, Harry--nay," cried Edith, still clinging to him; "but hear me, hear me--or if you speak such words of tenderness, you will break my heart, or drive me mad." "Good heaven!" exclaimed Leyton, unclasping his arms, "what is it that you say? Edith--my Edith--my own, my vowed, my bride! But now, you seemed to share the joy you gave,--to love, as you are loved; and now----" "I do love you--oh! I do love you!" cried Edith, vehemently; "add not a doubt of that to all I suffer. Ever, ever have I loved you, without change, without thought of change. But yet--but yet--. I may have fancied that you have forgotten me--I may have thought it strange that you did not write--that my letters remained unanswered; but still I loved, still I have been true to you."