'Oh, Herr Graf von Frankenburg, if you have a human heart——' Charlie was beginning, anxious to propitiate the father of her he loved so dearly, when the Count, waving his hand, interrupted him, and said:
'Herr Lieutenant, I can well afford to forgive the past now, and your rash love for my daughter.'
'Herr Graf, I thank you—I thank you!' exclaimed Charlie, with warmth and gratitude; for he expected high words, anger, and fierce reproaches.
'Carl, my dear friend,' said Heinrich, taking his hand kindly in both of his, while his eyes filled with genuine emotion, 'you here!—you here after all!'
'You got my letter and gave it to her—to Ernestine?'
'To her—yes; but alas! Carl, it came too late.'
'Too late!—too late! How?'
'Do you not know? have you not heard? Poor Carl! poor Carl!' said Heinrich, in a voice full of sympathy.
'What do you mean?' asked Charlie, in great perplexity.
'He means, Mein Herr,' said the Count, in a broken voice, 'that our beloved Ernestine died at noon yesterday.'