"Yet have I wronged you; yet have I caused you much grief and bitterness, and only your own generous nature preserved us from estrangement. Harold, have you heard from her?"
"I have seen her, Arthur. During my captivity, she was my jailer; in my sickness, for I was slightly wounded, she was my nurse. I will tell you all about it to-morrow."
"Yes, to-morrow," replied Arthur, breathing heavily. "To-morrow! the word sounds meaningless to me, like something whose significance has left me. Is she well, Harold?"
"Yes."
"And happy?"
"I think so, Arthur. As happy as any of us can be, amid severed ties and dread uncertainties."
"I am glad that she is well. Harold, you will tell her, for I am sure you will meet again, you will tell her it was my dying wish that you two should be united. Will you promise, Harold?"
"I will tell her all that you wish, Arthur."
"I seem to feel that I shall be happy in my grave, to know that, she will be your wife; to know that my guilty love—for I loved her, Harold, and it was guilt to love—to know that it left no poison behind, that its shadow has passed away from the path that you must tread."
"Speak not of guilt, my friend. There could live no crime between two such noble hearts. And had I thought you would have accepted the sacrifice, I could almost have been happy to have given her to you, so much was her happiness the aim of my own love."