“But my weak arm may, my friend.”
“Shame on thee, Richard Forth—methinks thou art a coward.”
“No, friend, no! not a coward, but weak.”
And the two friends turned towards the castle.
CHAPTER II.
That same day Colonel George Walton was sitting with his niece, Elvira, and chatting with her about the marriage. The leaven of puritanism was not so severely bitter in high as in low life. Among the latter there was still left something like cheerfulness and blithe talk.
Sitting down near his niece, the uncle asked why she looked so sad?
“I am thinking, second father.”
“And of what, Elvira?”