"Hush, hush!" the mourner cried, in a voice of agony. "I will hear no more. Go, now, and leave me!"
"Cheer up, sir," said the man, with a strange gleam in his eyes, as he turned to go. "The Lord may have some blessing in store for you yet, sir."
His only answer was a hollow groan from the wretched man. He threw himself face downward on the green grave, crushing all the sweet lilies and immortelles beneath his shuddering frame, and cried out to Heaven to kill him because he had blighted Golden's innocent life.
He lay there an hour or two, musing sorrowfully over the hapless fate of his beautiful girl-bride.
He recalled their brief, happy love-dream from which they had been so rudely awakened.
Over and over again he cursed himself for that first impulse of pride and selfishness that had made him false to his bride in the hour when he should have protected and shielded her.
A passionate, despairing longing to see her again filled his soul.
"I will go back and wander by the lake again," he resolved, in the madness of his despair. "It was there that we spent our sweetest, most blissful hours. In the calm and silence of the night I will dream them over again."
He went to the lake, but the very spirit of unrest was upon him.
The stars came forth and shone weirdly in the sky, the perfume of spring flowers sweetened the air. He grew restless and fanciful.