'And you--are a widow?' he asked in a low tone.
'Since four years,' she answered with downcast eyes.
'It is the penalty of age,' cried he, sorrowfully, 'that, one by one, all whom we have loved go before us to the eternal world. Life's way becomes every day more dreary and desolate, and wo to the unhappy being to whom remains not even one companion of the good old times. His is a solitary death, with none to drop a tear of regret upon his grave.'
'Very true!' said Georgina with deep feeling, and wiping the tears from her eyes.
'Georgina!' cried Arwed, suddenly and with vehemence; 'in my youth I was never able to subdue or conceal the emotions of my heart. Age has not changed me in that respect. That I might see you once again, and have an opportunity to lay before you my last request, I have obtained the king's permission to be the bearer of this letter. Hear me with kindness.'
'Spare me,' said she, greatly agitated.
'Your father's honor is restored to all its original brightness,' continued Arwed, without heeding her remark. 'My father has long slept in his grave. The causes no longer exist which once forbade my earthly happiness. I have sacredly kept my truth. You are again free. Do not now refuse me your hand.'
'Oh, my God!' cried the terrified Georgina. 'No, it is not possible!'
'Refuse me not your hand, Georgina!' said Arwed with all his former tenderness of tone.
'Dear Arwed,' answered she, with a smile, 'what would our children say? Theirs is the season of love.'