“Ella!” he exclaimed, wildly, as he suddenly appeared before her with a flushed countenance:  “Ella, God bless you!  Listen.  I—­I am free!  I am no longer a criminal, thank God!  These, Ella—­these!” and he held aloft the letters with one hand, and tapped them nervously with the other.

The next moment his features grew pale, his whole frame quivered, and he sunk upon a seat, completely overcome by the nervous excitement produced by the sudden transition from despair to hope and freedom.

Ella was alarmed; and springing to him, she exclaimed: 

“For Heaven’s sake!  Algernon, what is the matter?—­what has happened?—­are you in your senses?  Speak!—­speak!”

“Read!” answered he, faintly, placing the letters in her hand:  “Read, Ella—­read!”

Ella hesitated a moment on the propriety of complying with his request, but a moment only; and the next she turned to one of the epistles.  It was from the father of Algernon, and ran as follows: 

“DEAR SON:—­If in the land of the living, return as speedily as possible to your afflicted and anxious parents, who are even now mourning you as dead.  You can return in safety; for your cousin, whom you supposed you had fatally wounded, recovered therefrom, and publicly exonerated you from all blame in the matter.  He is now, however, no more—­having died of late.  Elvira, his wife, is also dead.  She died insane.  As a partial restitution for the injury done you, your cousin has made you heir, by will, to all his property, real estate and personal, amounting, it is said, to over twenty thousand dollars.  Your mother is in feeble health, caused by anxiety on your account.  For further information, inquire of the messenger who will bear you this.

Your affectionate father,
ALBERT REYNOLDS.” 
Nov. 12th, 1782.

The other epistle was from a lawyer, informing Reynolds of his acquisition to a large amount of property, by a will of his late cousin; and that he, the said lawyer, being executor thereof, required the presence of him, the said Reynolds, or his proxy forthwith.

“I knew it:  I felt that all would yet be well:  I told you to hope for the best!” cried Ella, as she concluded the letter, her eyes moist with tears, and her face beaming like the sun through a summer shower.

“God bless you, dearest Ella—­you did indeed!” exclaimed Reynolds, suddenly, bounding from his seat and clasping her in his arms.  “You did indeed tell me to hope—­and you told me truly;” and he pressed kiss after kiss, again and again, upon her sweet lips, with all the wild, trembling, rapturous feelings of a lover in his first ecstasy of bliss, when he has surmounted all obstacles, and gained the heart of the being he loves.

“Now, dearest Ella,” continued Algernon, when the excitement of the moment had been succeeded by a calmer, though not less blissful mood:  “Now, dearest Ella, I am free—­my sacred oath binds me no longer—­and now can I say, with propriety, that I deeply, solemnly, and devotedly love you, and you alone.  I am not rich; but I have enough of this world’s goods to live in ease, if not in splendor.  Will you share with me, and be partner of my lot, be it for good or ill, through life?  My heart you have had long—­my hand I now offer you.  Say, dearest, will you be mine?”