'An officer?--of the city militia?' asked the mother with some surprise.
'No mamma,' answered the maiden, laughing. 'He appears altogether different from them. He wears a short blue jacket with straw-colored facings turned up, a white band upon his arm, the sword belt over the shoulder, and a round hat looped up, with a black plume.'
'It is a Swede?' cried the mother with great vehemence. 'His name?'
'He will only tell it to yourself,' answered Georgina; 'which I consider particularly ill-bred.'
'It is very wonderful,' said the mother:--'ask him to come in.'
Georgina went, and soon returned, ushering in a well formed youth with the head of an Apollo, who reverently bowed to the dame, and immediately resumed his erect military position.
He would have spoken; but his eyes had wandered from the elder form to the younger, and the lovely maiden's face and figure embarrassed him so much that it cost him time and effort to collect himself.
'My father begs to assure your grace of his high respect,' he finally faltered out, 'and requests permission to place in your own hands an autograph from his majesty the king of Sweden.'
'Who is your father?' asked the lady with a trembling voice, whilst her eyes seemed to be seeking for remembered features in the unknown face.
'A noble Swede,' answered the youth.