"My dear little Friend,—Do not be startled at receiving these lines from an old man. George Sand was once asked when a woman ceased to love, and she answered, Never. But if I were asked now, when a man ceases to love, I should answer, for my own part, I no longer love, I only admire and worship. You will, I am sure, have realised, little friend, that it is you I worship, your talents, your beauty, your goodness of heart and brilliant spirit. What can I offer you? A faithful protector, a good home, in peace and harmony.
"Think this over now, think well and wisely, and keep what I have said a secret between ourselves. Whatever you may do, whichever way your life may turn, your happiness will be my greatest wish.—Affectionately yours,
"C. Endresen, Sen."
This time she did not laugh, but took a match and burned the letter in the stove.
"This must be the end," she murmured to herself. "I won't stay here any longer with all these ridiculous men." She thought and pondered for several days until the Admiral came in one day and said he was going away for a week or so on business. In a moment her plan was made. She said nothing to him of what was in her mind; he would never have understood, and it would have made no end of trouble all round.
But she would take Missa into her confidence. Missa had been a mother to her from the moment she realised she was living in this world; she would tell her all.
"Missa," she said, throwing her arms round her neck, "I can't stand this any longer."
"There, there now; what is it, child?"
"I can't bear to live in this dreadful place. I must get away somehow."
"Oh dear, dear! it's just what I think. A dreadful place."