"Viola-my long sought love-where, where is she?"

"She stands before you!" said a thrilling voice, while Teresa, now
divested of her disguise, stood with clasped hands, eagerly gazing
at Da Vinci, her long, bright golden curls enveloping her as with a
veil. In an instant Da Vinci, recovering from his overwhelming
surprise, had folded her to his heart. Viola, as we must now call
her, after an instant's silence, disengaged herself, saying;

"We must not forget that we can never be more than friends,
Leonarde."

"Never more than friends, Viola! Why do you not know that you are
free?"

"Free! What is it you mean?"

"Is it possible you still believe yourself Brandini's wife?"

"Believe myself! Am I not?"

"No, my own dearest Viola! It was no priest who performed that
ceremony. Two years since, a dying man confessed that for a large
sum he had assumed the character of a minister of God, and performed
a mock marriage between Brandini and yourself. Your father and I
have been seeking you ever since your flight, and at last our
dearest wish is granted."

"You are sure he will forgive me?"