" . . . in Meryston, sir."

Oliver turned his steady gaze from the man he had been intently and laboriously watching to gaze outside upon his boyhood home for what he considered to be his last and final time. He would accomplish what he had set out t do, and leave, really and truly leave. And though he despised himself for admitting it, he was truly ready to leave, to leave behind that which he had held onto for far too long and let control his every breath. This, what he was doing, was his form of goodbye.

- - - - -

Lillian sat somewhere in the garden, clutching her last feeble attempt at a letter to Mr. Oken. She had opened her soul and poured all its obscenities on so frail a carrier, ad yet it still was pathetic from even the greeting. This would never do. How could she possibly fit even one fragment of what had been striving inside her in one letter? And yet others could do it in one phrase! It was unthinkable. But . . . Oliver had done it. He had told her he loved her, had asked her to marry him. How could she not have seen all that was lying behind his words? How could she have thrown them away so carelessly? She would have given anything to have relived that moment now, enlightened as she was.

Through her inner turmoil, Lillian heard the sound of a carriage approaching, and instinctively rose and began trudging around to the front entrance. As she rounded the corner, a harsh cry rent the air, and faint shouting accompanied it. Lillian looked up to see Emiline barely holding back her brother Henry, who was nearly white as a ghost, and to her shock, Mr. Oken climbed out of the carriage holding firmly the arm of a very smug Mr. Austin. She immediately froze in place, and without calling on having any attention be brought to her, Mr. Oken turned and gazed intently in her direction. It almost seemed as if time were a river that had suddenly frozen over and Lillian was caught in the ice. An angry shout of Henry's pounded through her head.

"I ought to bloody murder you!"

Henry's shout brought Lillian from her shocked reverie, and she rushed over to him in hopes that if she were able to appease him, perhaps her own feelings would be settled down as well. As she approached, she perceived that Austin's manner was a mix of arrogance and anger, and she felt contempt that he didn't feel at all guilty for what he had done to her family; yet at the same time she pitied him, for he had lost the trust and friendship of many people, and those were things which one might never replace. This fragment of piety made her realize that though she despised what he had done, she would be able to forgive him far easier than she could forgive herself.

Not uttering a word, Mr. Oken prodded Mr. Austin's shoulder, and the latter spat out, "I have come to return that which I have taken."

Both Lillian and Emiline looked at Henry, who with difficulty constrained himself and answered with a prideful dignity, "I respect your coming back, and I thank you, Mr. Austin." Emiline now prodded him, who in turn, reluctantly added, "Would you care to come inside, Mr. Austin?"



Austin looked taken aback, but he consented as Emiline and Henry led him inside, leaving Lillian staring at Mr. Oken in a disbelieving way.

Mr. Oken returned her gaze for a second, then strangely shuddered and said quietly, "Well, I must be going. Goodbye."

"Mr. Oken!" Lillian cried out suddenly and desperately. He stopped, then turned his head and looked at her strangely. "Would you care for a walk?" Lillian asked, trying to keep the desperation from her voice.

Mr. Oken's expression softened, but he still seemed confused by her request as he agreed hesitantly, "It would be my honor, Miss Lillian."

Lillian felt as if a large burden had been removed from her back, though she rapidly became nervous as they began to stride down the lane. Mr. Oken remained silent, only adding to her discomfort. Though Lillian had initially asked for a walk so that she could apologize to her companion, she realized suddenly that though this was partially true, she truly had asked him because she didn't want him to leave. She desperately didn't want him to leave her. To never see him again was a possibility she realized that she never wanted to face, ever.

Looking over at her companion, she saw something she never though she would see in Mr. Oken. She saw . . . love, and not just the love he felt for her. No, she saw the love inside herself that had been pushed away, hidden, but there all along. She saw the one man whose actions had changed everything around her and everything about her, and she loved him for it.

"Thank you," she whispered so softly she doubted the angels would hear. Mr. Oken suddenly turned toward her, a look of surprise and wonder shadowing his face.

"For what?" he said just as quietly as she.

Strangely, for the first time, Lillian's mind was completely clear, and she knew exactly what to say. And what to feel.

"For everything."

Mr. Oken continued to gaze at her in an almost stunned silence.

"And—I'm sorry for everything. For hating you for what I did not know. For treating you like I have done. For being blind, so blind," she blurted out and just almost felt completely free.

"You weren't blind, Lillian."

"Yes, I was. I was blind to everything you've ever done for me, and I'm sorry, terribly sorry. I can't even . . . explain how much . . ."

It was almost as if the shadow that had been covering Mr. Oken's face was being chased away by the dawning of what Lillian was attempting to say. He stepped closer to Lillian, whose heart was 

beating at an inconceivably high rate. Lillian searched his eyes, seeking out the glimmer of hope, the scintillation of affection that had always been there, watching her. It was almost completely clouded with the disbelief and despair she had caused him, yet still it flickered through, granting her the courage and strength she needed for what she was about to say next.

Taking hold of that glimmer of love, she slowly spoke the words she was destined to utter.

"Mr. Oken, a while ago you asked me a question that I wasn't ready for nor wanted to hear. And you asked the wrong woman. But . . . I am not that woman anymore."

The flicker in his eyes began to grow into a wildfire that consumed all doubt, all fear, all confusion, and it was matched by that in Lillian's eyes.

"I do believe that I have changed, Mr. Oken, and at the risk of being nonsensical, self-centered, and too hopeful, I would ask that you might make the request a second time in hope that you might obtain a different answer."

Now completely breathless, Lillian lowered her head and instantly felt two large hands gently touching her cheeks and raising her head.

"Lillian Truscott, do you love me?" Oliver asked, just as breathless as she.

Lillian smiled the first she had in months and answered as she reached up to his shoulders, "I will. Marry you, that is."

Oliver suddenly gasped, though not in pain, and Lillian saw that his eyes were wet with tears.

"You have no idea," he whispered, "how long I have waited to hear you say that . . .

. . . Lillian."

The End

Epilogue:

With the return of the Truscott estate deed and the taken money, Henry and Emiline were established as the master and lady of the Truscott family estate. Oliver took Lillian to his northern home where they spent many days riding and fishing with their twin son and daughter, William Henry Oken and Jane Emiline. Madison Grace Truscott was born two years afterwards. Lillian's true parents were never identified, and no relatives were able to be found.

Matthew Austin spent most of his life in the London jail, but escaped to marry Miss Fitzgerald just before his sentence was ended. He was never seen again by the Truscotts or the Okens.