"My brain was almost bewildered that night," she said; "I was so weary,
so miserable; and yet, stay, I do remember the song. It was 'Auld Robin
Gray.'"
"Yes, Honoria, the story of an old man's love for a woman young enough
to be his daughter. I was sitting by my cheerless fire-side, meditating
very gloomily upon the events of the day, which had been a sad one for
me, when your thrilling tones stole upon my ear, and roused me from my
reverie. I listened to every note of that old ballad. Although those
words had long been familiar to me, they seemed new and strange that
night. An irresistible impulse led me to the spot where you had sunk
down in your helplessness. From that hour to this you have been the
ruling influence of my life. I have loved you with a devotion which few
men have power to feel. Tell me, Honoria, have I loved in vain? The
happiness of my life trembles in the balance. It is for you to decide
whether my existence henceforward is to be worthless to me, or whether
I am to be the proudest and happiest of men."
"Would my love make you happy, Sir Oswald?"
"Unutterably happy."
"Then it is yours."
"You love me--in spite of the difference between our ages?"
"Yes, Sir Oswald, I honour and love you with all my heart," answered
Honoria Milford. "Whom have I seen so worthy of a woman's affection?
From the first hour in which some guardian angel threw me across your
pathway, what have I seen in you but nobility of soul and generosity of
heart? Is it strange, therefore, if my gratitude has ripened into
love?"
"Honoria," murmured Sir Oswald, bending over the drooping head, and
pressing his lips gently on the pure brow--"Honoria, you have made me
too happy.
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