"You will have to ask Mary," laughed the woodman.
"Oh! I understand; there'll be two weddings to-morrow, night, eh? That's so, Mary?"
"Not that I know of, I have no expectation of becoming a wife for any one."
"Hain't, eh? Why the man seems to love you. Why don't you marry him?"
"I am afraid Mary will never marry," said Haverland, "She has rejected all offers, though many were from very desirable men."
"Queer! I never heard of such a case."
"Her love was buried long ago," replied Haverland, in a lower tone, to Seth.
After a moment's silence, Seth arose, took his chair, and seated himself beside her. She did not look at him, nor did any one else. He sat a moment; then whispered:—
"Mary?"
She started. Her eyes flashed like meteors in his face a moment; then she turned as pale as death, and would have fallen from her chair, had not Seth caught her in his arms. Haverland looked up in amazement; the whole family were riveted in wonder. Seth looked up from the face of the fainting woman, and smiled as he said: "She is mine, forever!"
"Merciful heaven! Eugene Morton!" exclaimed Haverland, starting to his feet.
"It is so!" said the one addressed.
"Have you risen from the dead?"
"I have risen to life, Alf, but have never been with the dead."
Instead of the weak, squeaking tone which had heretofore characterized his speech, was now a rich, mellow bass, whose tones startled Mary into life again. She raised her head, but he who held her, would not permit her to arise. He pressed her fervently to his bosom. The ecstasy of that moment, only the angels in heaven could fathom.
Haldidge and Graham entered, and the man in his true character, arose to his feet—a tall, dignified, graceful, imposing person.
"Where is Seth?" asked Graham, not noticing the apparent stranger.
