At last one morning she went out very early, and returned about eight o'clock bearing in her hands an enormous bouquet of white roses. And she sent word to her husband that she wanted to speak to him. He came-anxious and uneasy.
“We are going out together,” she said. “Please carry these flowers; they are too heavy for me.”
A carriage took them to the gate of the cemetery, where they alighted. Then, her eyes filling with tears, she said to George:
“Take me to her grave.”
He trembled, and could not understand her motive; but he led the way, still carrying the flowers. At last he stopped before a white marble slab, to which he pointed without a word.
She took the bouquet from him, and, kneeling down, placed it on the grave. Then she offered up a silent, heartfelt prayer.
Behind her stood her husband, overcome by recollections of the past.
She rose, and held out her hands to him.
“If you wish it, we will be friends,” she said.