Ger. (hurrying to meet them). Constance! Constance! forgive me. Oh my God! You will when you know all.
Col. G. She knows enough for that already, my boy, or she wouldn't be here. Take her—and me for her sake.
Ger. What! who—? Constance!—What does it all mean?—It must be—can it be—my father?—William—It is William!—William my father!—O father! father! (throwing his arms about him) it was you all the time then!
Col. G. My boy! my boy! There!—take Constance, and let me go. I did want to do something for you—but—There! I'm too much ashamed to look at you in my own person.
Ger. (kneeling). Father! father! don't talk like that! O father! my father!
Col. G. (raising him). My boy! my boy! I wanted to do something for you—tried hard—and was foiled.—I doubly deserved it. I doubted as well as neglected you. But God is good. He has shamed me, and saved you.
Ger. By your hand, father.
Col. G. No—by his own. It would all have come right without me. I was unworthy of the honour, my boy. But I was allowed to try; and for that I am grateful.—Arthur, I come to you empty-handed—a beggar for your love.
Ger. How dare you say that, father?—Empty-handed—bringing me her and your-self—all I ever longed for!—my father and my Psyche! Father, thank you. The poor word must do its best. I thank you with my very soul.—How shall I bear my happiness!—Constance, it was my father all the time! Did you know it? Serving me like a slave!—humouring all my whims!—watching me night and day!—and then bringing me—
Con. Your own little girl, Arthur. But why did you not tell me?