"I must make one confession to you, Erika," he whispers. "I was almost out of my senses in that terrible twenty-four hours after I received your letter and before I received your grandmother's; my gray temples bear witness to that; but then--then I took delight in your letter,--yes, in that terrible letter. For I learned from it what I had never ventured to hope,--that you cared for me a little, Erika."
"Ah, Goswyn, you always were, of all men in this world, the most indispensable one to me!"
How fair life can be! For a while the lovers, hand clasped in hand, talk blissfully; then Erika looks round for her grandmother. But the old Countess has vanished: they do not need her at this moment. She is sitting in her own room, delighting in her two young people, recalling her far-distant past, as she says to herself that under certain circumstances love may be a beautiful thing, and when it is beautiful----