XI.

Then the Georgian, speaking softly, Said: "A brown-eyed little one Used to wait among the roses, For _me_, when the day was done; And amid the early fragrance Of those blossoms, fresh and sweet, Up and down the old verandah I would chase my darling's feet. But on earth no more the beauty Of her face my eye shall greet, Nevermore I'll hear the music Of those merry pattering feet-- Ah, the solemn starlight, falling On the far-off Georgia bloom, Tells no tale unto my darling Of her absent father's doom."

Through the tears that rose between them Both were trying grief to smother, As they clasped each other's fingers Whispering: _"Let's forgive each other."_