Darkness was now falling, yet there was still sufficient light to reveal her wondrous beauty. As she stood before me in her pale grey dress and large black hat I recognised that she had grown even more beautiful than she had been in the days of our love romance. Her figure was perfect in its symmetry; her countenance so lovely that even the uncommon beauty of Lucie paled before her. Those blue eyes that I knew were so unfathomable were turned upon me, and even there I saw in them the love-light that was unmistakable, that expression mysterious and indescribable that no woman is ever able to feign--the look, often unconscious, that tells a man that he is the object of passionate affection. My heart leapt within me with wild ecstasy, yet I could not speak. I only grasped her hand more tightly. Then in order to cover the emotion that I saw was rising within her, I turned and made a casual remark to Lucie that it was almost time we returned. "Of course," she said quickly, recognising the situation. "You two have much to talk over alone. Let us go." And together we moved forward along the path by, which my lost love had returned to me. How can I describe to you my feelings in those moments? Sometimes I found myself doubting whether it was not all some dream or some strange chimera of my unbalanced brain. But I held her hand, and found that it was real flesh and blood. My well-beloved still lived; she for whom I had mourned so long had returned, even more sweet and beautiful. The village bells were pealing, the ringers practising probably. "Hark!" I said, as I walked at her side, treading on air from sheer buoyancy of spirits. "They are joy bells, Ella. They ring because you have returned to me." She laughed, turning those dear, wide-open eyes to mine, and said:-- "How often have I wondered where you were, and whether--" and she paused without completing the sentence. "Whether what?" "Well--whether you had, after all, forgotten me," she said. "I never dreamed that you believed me dead. I thought, of course, that if you really loved me, as you used to say, that you would surely write to me or endeavour to see me when you knew that, after all, I had not married that man." "Then you did not marry Blumenthal after all!" I cried quickly. "Was the engagement broken off?" "Yes. Because of his ill-health. He released me when the doctors told him the truth--that he had only a few months to live. He died three months later." And she grew silent again, and yet it seemed as if she wished to tell me something further. Indeed she was about to do so, but checked herself. "Well!" I asked, in order to allow her an opportunity to speak.