“Mount on the dolphin Pleasure,” and threw myself on the sofa beside—­Desmond!

I dropped Barry Cornwall.

“I have come,” he said, in a voice deathly faint.

“How old you have grown, Desmond!”

“But I have taken such pains with my hands for you!  You said they were handsome; are they?”

I kissed them.

He was so spare, and brown, and his hair was quite gray!  Even his mustache looked silvery.

“Two years to-day since I have worn the watch, Desmond.”

He took one exactly like it from his pocket, and showed me the inscription inside.

“And the ruby ring, on the guard?”

“It is gone, you see; you must put one there now.”

“Forgive me.”

“Ah, Cassy!  I couldn’t come till now.  You see what battles I must have had since I saw you.  It took me so long to break my cursed habits.  I was afraid of myself, afraid to come; but I have tried myself to the utmost, and hope I am worthy of you.  Will you trust me?”

“I am yours, as I always have been.”

“I have eaten an immense quantity of oil and garlic,” he said with a sigh.  “But Spain is a good place to reform in.  How is Ben?”

I shook my head.

“Don’t tell me anything sad now.  Poor fellow!  God help him.”

Fanny was talking to some one on the walk; the fisherman probably, who was bringing fish.

“Do you want some dinner?”

“I have had no breakfast.”

“I must see about something for you.”

“Not to leave me, Cassy.”

“Just for a few minutes.”

“No.”

“But I want to cry by myself, besides looking after the dinner.”

“Cry here then, with me.  Come, Cassandra, my wife!  My God, I shall die with happiness.”

A mortal paleness overspread his face.

“Desmond, Desmond, do you know how I love you?  Feel my heart,—­it has throbbed with the weight of you since that night in Belem, when you struck your head under the mantel.”

He was speechless.  I murmured loving words to him, till he drew a deep breath of life and strength.

“These fish are small,” said Fanny at the door.  “Shall I take them!”

“Certainly,” said Desmond, “I’ll pay for them.”

“It is Ben in black lead,” said Fanny.

We laughed.

At dusk Ben and Veronica drove up.  Desmond was seated in the window. 
Ben fixed his eyes upon him, without stopping.

We ran out, and called to him.

“Old fellow,” said Desmond, “willing or not, I have come.”

Ben’s face was a study; so many emotions assailed him that my heart was wrung with pity.

“Give her to me,” Desmond continued in a touching voice.  “You are her oldest friend, and have a right.”

“She was always yours,” he answered.  “To contend with her was folly.”

Veronica took hold of Ben’s chin and raised his head to look into his face.  “What dreams have you had?”