Herbert appeared to have forgotten his purpose. Not a word was said about Cubina or the site of his dwelling. Not a word of the Happy Valley, or the unpleasant recollections it was calculated to call up.
All the past appeared to be forgotten, except that one sweet scene; and on this were concentrated the thoughts of both--their words as well.
"And you loved me then?" inquired he, only to enjoy the luxury of an affirmative answer. "You loved me then?"
"Oh, Herbert! how could I help loving you? Your eyes were so beautiful then!"
"What! Are they not so now?"
"How cruel to ask the question! Ah! far more beautiful now! Then I beheld them only with antic.i.p.ation; now I look into them with the consciousness of possession. That moment was pleasure--this is ecstasy!"
The last word was perfectly appropriate--not a shade too strong to express the mutual feeling that existed between Herbert Vaughan and his cousin-wife. As their rounded arms became entwined, and their young bosoms pressed fondly together, both believed that even in this unhappy world ecstasy may exist.
THE END.