'Dear father!' implored Arwed, and at that moment the valet-de-chambre entered with the count's hat and sword and announced that the carriage was ready.
'It is settled,' said the senator in the most decided manner to his son, whilst he buckled on his sword. 'I will hear nothing further in opposition to my determination.'
He snatched his hat violently from the servant, and hastily sallied forth.
'This is hard!' said the afflicted Arwed. 'Must I obey?' he asked himself after a moment's pause,--'Why torment myself!' cried he finally. 'Gushes not for me, in one kind heart, the silver fountain of goodness and wisdom? She shall tell me what is right in the struggle between filial duty and my own better conviction. She shall decide.'
CHAPTER II.
Alone, with folded arms, on the following evening, Arwed wandered up and down the northern bank of the Suedermalm in the new volunteer uniform, anxiously glancing across lake Malar towards the magnificent city of Stockholm, which there arose with its palaces, cupolas and towers, proud and lordly as became the queen of those waters. The sun had already gone down, but it yet glowed redly upon the waves of the lake, gently ruffled by a soft west wind, and its last rays glistened upon the knob of the high towers of St. Gertrude, which it lighted up like a giant star shining through the incipient twilight. With earnest attention the youth's eyes glided from tower to tower and from palace to palace, until they finally remained fixed upon that of the royal residence, which in consequence of the continued impoverishment of the treasury had not been rebuilt since the fire that destroyed it twenty years before.
'What horrible desolation in the midst of so much splendor!' said Arwed mournfully to himself. 'The ruins of the royal castle almost appear to me to be symbols of the decay of this noble realm! Yet also this palace,' proceeded he, consoling himself with the light-mindedness of youth, 'will one day again rise from its ashes, perhaps more beautiful than before. Lost lands can be conquered again, new generations will come to fill up the vacancies caused by the sword, and soon perhaps will Europe tremble again before the mighty roar of the Swedish lion.'
A splash in the water interrupted the proud prophecy. A row-boat from the Ritterholm cut through the stream and neared the bank. Two ladies in plain dark cloaks and covered with white veils, stepped from the boat. 'Georgina,' cried Arwed in ecstasy, springing towards her. With light, nimble steps one of the ladies, a slender and delicately formed figure, approached and affectionately extended to him her right hand, while her left was employed in withdrawing the veil from her youthful and lovely face.
'My Georgina!' he joyfully repeated, leading her to a seat upon the rocky bank, whilst the other lady remained standing at some distance, sending from under her veil in every direction her scrutinizing glances, so as to be enabled to warn the youthful pair betimes of any troublesome witness who might interrupt the happy interview.
The beauteous Georgina fixed her affectionate gaze upon the beloved youth, but with softened feelings which filled her dark eyes with tears. 'By your dress I see,' said she with emotion, 'that this is our parting hour--and I thank thee that I have been hitherto kept in ignorance of it, so that I was enabled to enjoy the anticipation of this meeting without alloy.'