Albert wept.
“Nay, Albert, do not weep,” said his father; “we and all we love—all who have loved us—will meet again.”
“’Tis a dear hope,” said Albert, endeavouring to control his tears.
“And now, my dear boy, when you do see this young and innocent girl—this Ada, whom you love—tell her I send her my blessing, and beg her to accept it as she would a father’s. You will tell her, Albert?”
“Tell her, father? Oh yes!—Your words will be precious to her, father.”
“I know her gentle nature well,” continued Mr. Seyton. “Cherish her, Albert, for she is one of those rare creatures sent among us by God, to purify and chasten the bad passions of men. Cherish her as a dear gift from Heaven to you.”
“As Heaven is my hope, I will,” said Albert, “I will live but for her.”
“’Tis well, ’tis well. I would have joyed to see her; but no matter. The spirit may be allowed to look with purer eyes upon those it loved on earth, than it could through its earthly organs.”
“Your love, father, will cling for ever round us, and we will rejoice in the fond belief that we are seen by you from above.”
Albert’s voice became choked with tears, and he sobbed bitterly.