She looked up at him shyly.

“Archer, how do I know but you have changed?”

“You know I have not.  I have loved but one woman—­I shall love no other through time and eternity.  And now, at last, after all the distress and the sorrow we have passed through, will you give me your promise to meet whatever else fortune and fate may have in store for us, by my side?”

She put her face up to his, and he kissed her lips.

“Yours always, Archer.  I have never had one thought for any other.”

So a second time were Archer Trevlyn and Margie Harrison betrothed.

On the ensuing day the storm abated, and the steamer made a swift passage to New York.

Doctor and Mrs. Elbert were a little disappointed at the sudden termination of their bridal tour, but consoled themselves with the thought that they could try it over again in the spring.

Trevlyn remained in the city to adjust some business affairs which had suffered from his long absence, and Margie and her friends went up to her own home.  He was to follow them hither on the ensuing day.

And so it happened that once more Margie sat in her old familiar chamber dressing for the coming of Archer Trevlyn.  What should she put on?  She remembered the rose-colored dress she had laid away that dreadful night so long ago.  But now the rose-colored dreams had come back, why not wear the rose-colored dress?  She went to the wardrobe where she had locked it away.  Some of the servants had found the key out in the grass where she had flung it that night, and fitted it to the lock.  She lifted the dress, and the beautiful pearl ornaments, and held them up to the light.  The dress was fresh and unfaded, but it was full four years behind the style!  Well, what did that matter?  She had a fancy for wearing it.  She wanted to take up her life just where she had left it when she put off that dress.

To the unbounded horror of Florine, she arrayed herself in the old-fashioned dress, and waited for her lover.  And she had not long to wait.  She heard his well-remembered step in the hall, and a moment after she was folded in his arms.

* * * * *

At Christmas there was a bridal at Harrison Park.  The day was clear and cloudless—­the air almost as balmy as the air of spring.  Such a Christmas had not been known for years.

The sun shone brightly, and soft winds sighed through the leafless trees.  And Margie was married, and not a cloud came between her and the sun.

Peace and content dwelt with Archer Trevlyn and his wife in their beautiful home.  Having suffered, they knew better how to be grateful for, and to appreciate the blessings at last bestowed upon them.

At their happy fireside there comes to sit, sometimes, of an evening, a quiet, grave-faced man.  A man whom Archer Trevlyn and his wife love as a dear brother, prize above all other earthly friends.  And beside Louis Castrani, Leo sits, serene and contemplative, enjoying a green old age in peace and plenty.  Castrani will never marry, but sometime in the hereafter, I think he will have his recompense.