The rustling of a dress was very distinctly heard, and the
sound of footsteps.
"Geraldine!" repeated Earl Surrey.
"Here I am, my Henry!"
With an exclamation of delight, the woman rushed forward toward the
sound of the loved voice.
"The queen!" muttered Henry; and in spite of himself he felt his
heart seized with bitter grief.
He saw with his inward eye how they held each other in their
embrace. He heard their kisses and the low whisper of their tender
vows, and all the agonies of jealousy and wrath filled his soul. But
yet the king prevailed upon himself to be silent and swallow down
his rage. He wanted to hear everything, to know everything.
He clenched his hands convulsively, and pressed his lips firmly
together to hold in his panting breath. He wanted to hear.
How happy they both were! Henry had wholly forgotten that he had
come to reproach her for her long silence; she did not think about
this being the last time she might see her lover.
They were with each other, and this hour was theirs. What did the
whole world matter to them? What cared they whether or not mischief
and ruin threatened them hereafter?
They sat by each other on the divan, quite near the boudoir. They
jested and laughed; and Henry Howard kissed away the tears that the
happiness of the present caused his Geraldine to shed.
He swore to her eternal and unchanging love. In blissful silence she
drank in the music of his words; and then she reiterated, with
jubilant joy, his vows of love.
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