“Yes, I will go. Oh! George, but for you I should never have found strength to leave her, and encounter the desert of existence before me. Yes, I will go!”
The resolution was uttered with a gesture of dull despair; and he added, “I must go, or more evil will come of this!”
“It is best,” answered George, pressing a hand to his forehead, as if to still some pain there. “But that I can serve you better here, we would go together. All places are alike to me now!”
Louis sat down by his brother. Tears stood in his fine eyes, and dusky shadows settled beneath them.
“You will see her, George, see her in all her serene loveliness; you will sit by her side, talk with her—talk of me—of my weakness. She is gentle, and will not think my love for her a crime. You will tell her that I have been married—married to her husband’s sister, who may be alive, or who may be in her grave—I know that you will deal with my name in brotherly kindness. But do not let her despise me; tell her how much it cost me to abandon everything for a hard duty. Deal kindly with me, brother, for my heart is almost breaking!”
George threw his arms around his brother, and drew him close to the honest heart so full of compassion for his troubles.
“Take courage, Louis. All will end well. I will not rest till this mystery is solved. In a few months I will find your wife, or bring you proofs of her death.”
“And must I go at once?” said Louis, looking wistfully into his brother’s face. “Why must I leave my native land? The very air she breathes is precious to me.”
George smiled compassionately.
“It is far better, Louis, that you should be away. How could you be content without seeing her?”