'When may my father wait upon your grace?' courteously asked the youth.
'In an hour I hope to have sufficiently recovered,' answered she--and, with a glance at the charming daughter which called a blush into her cheek, he took his leave.
'Mamma,' said she at length, in a tone of timid remonstrance, 'if the Swedish count is your old acquaintance, you ought to have invited the young count to come with him. He is at any rate his foster son, and such a modest young man.'
'You appear to be pleased with him, Georgina?' said the mother, looking earnestly at her daughter. The latter dropped her eyes to the floor, blushed deeply, and remained silent.
'It is our duty to suffer ourselves to be sought,' said the matron to the maiden. 'It is proper for the other sex to seek. If the young man's heart speak as prematurely as yours, he will come, even without an invitation.'
'You are wholly right, mamma!' cried the daughter, as if now first struck by an important truth, passionately kissing her hand.
'Leave me alone, my child,' said the mother. 'I have need of solitude to prepare myself for a sweet, sad hour. Seat yourself meantime, at your piano, and practise the bass of that beautiful sonata for four hands.
'Now?' cried Georgina, clasping her hands in despair. 'Ah, mamma! I positively cannot practise now.'
'It may perhaps cost you some effort,' said the mother, smiling, 'but it will do you good. Go to your practice, my daughter.'
Georgina departed, shrugging her shoulders, and the storm of emotion, so long restrained, once again floated over the face of the mother, who had hitherto struggled with all her power, to conceal her feelings from the eyes of observers. 'God give me strength for the sorrow and the joy of this interview!' cried she, sinking upon the sofa.