eyes shone with the light of a supreme triumph.

"It is I," he said, in a moved voice. "I, Adrian Baker. I am not a spectre
risen from the tomb."

Berta felt herself growing faint and was obliged to sit down; and Adrian
Baker continued thus:

"Forgive me. I have put your heart to a terrible proof, but the doubts of
my soul were still more terrible. The world had filled my spirit with
horrible distrust and I desired to sound the uttermost depths of your
love. It has resisted absence, and it has resisted death. Your love for me
was not a passing fancy; you did not deceive yourself when you vowed me an
eternal love. I left you in order to watch you and I died to comprehend
you. I have followed you everywhere; I have not separated from you a
single moment. My sweet Berta! You waited for me living, and you have
waited for me dead. 'If you wait for me,' I said, 'your own heart will
announce my return to you,' and you see I have returned. I felt for you an
immense tenderness, but a terrible doubt consumed my heart. Had my riches
dazzled you? Forgive me, Berta. A fatal learning had frozen faith in my
soul; I doubted everything, and I doubted your heart also--I doubted you."

Berta clasped her hands, and raising her eyes to heaven, exclaimed
mournfully:

"My God! what cruel injustice!"

"Yes!" burst out Adrian Baker; "cruel injustice! but you have resuscitated
my heart; you have brought my soul back to life."