“But is it not good to be old in?”
“No country is good for that.”
The old man sighed and took his leave. I accompanied him to the front door.
“I don’t know what to say, Sir Marcus. She moves me strangely. I never expected such sweet innocence. For my boy’s sake, I would take her in—but his mother knows nothing about it—save that the boy is dead. It would kill her.”
The tears rolled down the old man’s cheeks. I grasped him by the hand.
“She shall come to no manner of harm beneath my roof,” said I.
Carlotta was waiting for me in the drawing-room. She looked at me in a perplexed, pitiful way.
“Seer Marcous?”
“Yes?”
“Am I to marry him?”