Several weeks later Madame Giry sent an urgent letter, summoning her daughter to return to Paris, offering no explanation as to why.

I sat dully on the bed as Meg packed a traveling bag. I hated the thought of being parted from her, even if it was only temporarily. She didn't look any happier than I was.

"I'll come back as soon as I can. You know that, don't you?" She asked worriedly. I smiled peacefully up at her.

"I know."

She clicked her bag shut. I rose to carry down the stairs for her.

"Are you going to tell your mother about us?" I asked as we meandered slowly down, taking our time.

"Yes."

"You don't think she'll be upset?"

" No, I don't think she will…In fact, I rather think she might have known this was going to happen." She said with a little chuckle. I had to agree. Madame Giry was a wise, mysterious woman, who cared deeply for both of us.

Meg lingered at the front door, unwilling to leave just yet. I gave her a deep, powerful kiss, then clutched her tightly against my chest. After a moment she spoke against my neck.

"Erik, while I'm there, I was thinking…do you want me to see if I can find your score? We could take it somewhere else, Italy, Russia-"

"No." I said firmly. "That place worked a strange trick on me, Meg. I don't ever want to go back to that opera house, nor do I want any of my former possessions. Besides," I smiled as I stroked her cheek. "I've got an idea for a new score."

"Really?" Her voice rang with excitement. "That's wonderful, Erik! What will you call it?"

"The Song of the Golden Angel" I said with great emphasis. A single tear fell down her cheek as she grasped my meaning. She kissed me once more.

"I love you, Erik." She turned and walked quickly out the door to the carriage that waited in the drive. I watched from the window as she climbed in and drove away, sighing when I could no longer see it. I was alone again, but not lonely. A great weight had been lifted and I realized that I could have what everyone else had. I could be happy.

I planned to ask Meg to marry me when she returned. The only ring I had to give was the one I'd meant for Christine. I decided immediately not to venture there…Meg deserved her own ring, not some recycled relic that belonged in the past.

I walked purposefully to the room that I now shared with Meg, sitting down at the vanity where she brushed her hair every night.

"Hello," I feebly greeted myself. As I stared at my reflection, I realized that I no longer loathed what I saw. Perhaps since Meg had seen some worth in me, I was able to see it as well. I picked up a comb and fix my sparse hair to the best of my ability. Then I rose, straightened my collar, and headed for the front door.

As I stepped outside, into the light, I noticed for the first time how pleasant it was to feel the sun upon one's face. I breathed in the fresh air. The snow had melted, it would be spring soon. After a moment I took another deep breath and began walking in the direction of the village. I meant to find the town jeweler to inquire about an engagement ring.

Epilogue

Meg and I were married that summer. A year later she was with child. My old fears returned at the prospect of brining a product of my blood into the world. I feared the baby would be as badly disfigured as me, or worse. Nine months passed like lightning and on one cold March night Meg gave birth to a baby boy- a perfect baby boy. My worries were dispelled and, two year later, Meg bore another child, this time a girl.

My heart sank as I held her in my arms that first time; I saw that my little angel had a lazy eye. My tears ran down upon the baby's forehead, baptizing her into the misery I'd known all my life. I handed her apologetically into Meg's open arms. She cooed lovingly at her new daughter, kissed the eye over which I had cried, and held the girl as dearly as she'd held our boy when he was born. It was then that I knew that this child would never know a fraction of the wretchedness I'd been subjected to as a child, for she had not one but two parents who loved her, unconditionally.

We grew old and grey together, watched our babies grow into beautiful adults, then have children of their own. I was blissfully happy, and never took one moment of our lives together for granted.

When I learned that Christine had died I was struck with a pang of sadness. It was then that I'd remembered the old ring that I'd tucked away so long ago. It seemed right that she should have it now, a token of the past, a symbol of forgiveness. After all, if not for the tumultuous affair with Christine, I might never have known the love of Meg.

I journeyed with Meg to Paris. I wasn't afraid of being recognized anymore, old age had withered my face in such a way that my deformities were hardly discernable. We went to the old cemetery and stood before Christine's grave reverently. Meg reached out and affectionately touched the oval portrait. I bent slowly to deposit my gift; a red rose with the ring around the stem. We were silent for a moment, each recalling the events of the past. Then we walked arm and arm back to our automobile. As we drove out of the cemetery we passed another vehicle that entered. I caught a glimpse of the passenger- an old man like myself, creased and haggard with the passage of time. He looked familiar, but I couldn't place him... I shrugged the odd feeling away and gave my wife quick peck on the cheek. She giggled, sounding like a girl again, and patted my thigh affectionately.

"Want to fool around when we get back to the hotel?" I asked, suggestively arching my brow.

"Of course, Erik…if you think you'll be able to stay awake that long." Was her saucy reply.

I laughed heartily, something I was well used to doing by now, and wondered how I could have lived so many years without knowing that simple pleasure.

THE END.