The gates of his prison sprang open, and on the wings of thought Henry Howard soared away from that dismal and desolate place.

On the wings of thought he came to her--to his Geraldine.
Again she was by him, in the large, silent hall.

Again night lay upon them, like a veil concealing, blessing, and enveloping them;--and threw its protection over their embraces and their kisses.

Solitude allowed him to hear again the dear music of her voice, which sang for him so enchanting a melody of love and ecstasy.
Henry Howard must be alone, so that he can hear his Geraldine.

Deep darkness must surround him, so that his Geraldine can come to him.
He demanded, therefore, for his last night, nothing further than to be left alone, and without a light.