Part 49 (1/2)

”My lover and husband,--You are going away from your own country, perhaps forever; and I think it is partly through me that all this has happened. What can I do? Only this; that I offer to go with you, if you will take me. I am your wife; why should you go alone?”'

There was no signature. She folded the paper, and placed it in an envelope, and carefully locked it up. Then she put out the light and went back to bed again, and fell into a sound, happy, contented sleep--the untroubled sleep of a child.

Then in the morning how bright and light-hearted she was!

Anneli could not understand this change that had suddenly come over her young mistress. She said little, but there was a happy light on her face; she sung ”Du Schwert an meiner Linken” in s.n.a.t.c.hes, as she was dressing her hair; and she presented Anneli with a necklace of Turkish silver coins.

She was down at South Kensington Museum considerably before eleven o'clock. She idly walked Anneli through the various rooms, pointing out to her this and that; and as the little Dresden maid had not been in the Museum before, her eyes were wide open at the sight of such beautiful things. She was shown ma.s.ses of rich tapestry and cases of j.a.panese lacquer-work; she was shown collections of ancient jewellery and gla.s.s; she went by sunny English landscapes, and was told the story of solemn cartoons. In the midst of it all George Brand appeared; and the little German girl, of her own accord, and quite as deftly as Madame Potecki, devoted herself to the study of some screens of water-colors, just as if she were one of the Royal Academy pupils.

”We have been looking over Madame Potecki's treasures once more,” said Natalie. He was struck by the happy brightness of her face.

”Ah, indeed!” said he; and he went and brought a couple of chairs, that together they might regard, if they were so minded, one of those vast cartoons. ”Well, I have good news, Natalie. I do not start until a clear week hence. So we shall have six mornings here--six mornings all to ourselves. Do you know what that means to me?”

She took the chair he offered her. She did not look appalled by this intelligence of his early departure.

”It means six more days of happiness: and do you not think I shall look back on them with grat.i.tude? And there is not to be a word said about my going. No; it is understood that we cut off the past and the future for these six days. We are here; we can speak to each other; that is enough.”'

”But how can one help thinking of the future?” said she, with a mock mournfulness. ”You are going away alone.”

”No, not quite alone.”

She looked up quickly.

”Why, you know what Evelyn is--the best-hearted of friends,” he said to her. ”He insists on going over to America with me, and even talks of remaining a year or two. He pretends to be anxious to study American politics.”

He could not understand why she laughed--though it was a short, quick, hysterical laugh, very near to tears.

”You remind me of one of Mr. Browning's poems,” she said, half in apology. ”It is about a man who has a friend and a sweetheart. You don't remember it, perhaps?”

He thought for a moment.

”The fact is,” he said, ”that when I think of Browning's poems, all along the line of them, there are some of them seem to burn like fire, and I cannot see the others.”

”This is a very modest little one,” said she. ”It is a poor poet starving in a garret; and he tells you he has a friend beyond the sea; and he knows that if he were to fall ill, and to wake up out of his sickness, he would find his friend there, tending him like the gentlest of nurses, even though he got nothing but grumblings about his noisy boots. And the--the poor fellow--”

She paused for a second.

”He goes on to tell about his sweetheart--who has ruined him--to whom he has sacrificed his life and his peace and fame--and what would she do?

He says,

”'She --I'll tell you--calmly would decree That I should roast at a slow fire, If that would compa.s.s her desire And make her one whom they invite To the famous ball to-morrow night.'

That is--the difference--between a friend and a sweetheart--”

He did not notice that she spoke rather uncertainly, and that her eyes were wet.

”What do you mean, Natalie?”

”That it is a good thing for you that you have a friend. There is one, at all events--who will--who will not let you go away alone.”