The feeling of deep, unsatisfied longing died out of his heart and from that moment a sense of great freedom took possession of him. He looked over at his beloved Hélène. She was still rhapsodising on the piano, utterly unconscious of the great struggle going on in the heart of her music master. What could he offer her? Should he ruin all her prospects? Had he a home fit for her to come to?
These thoughts surged through his mind as he looked at her. His first great impulse was to tell her who he was and take her to his heart, but with a supreme effort he controlled himself. He had so often pictured the scene of his first meeting with his child that it seemed almost as if he had been through this crisis before, but he had never dreamed that she would be occupying such a high station in life, never dreamed that to make his relationship known would ruin her prospects, and perhaps her happiness. This realisation gave him a perspective of the situation and he resolved for the sake of her future not to betray himself. He walked slowly to the piano, and stood behind her a few moments, then suddenly he lost control of himself and took her hands in his.
"What is it?" she said, in some surprise, but with no tinge of anger in her voice.
"You slurred," he faltered, not daring to look her in the face, for fear his great love would show itself.
"You mustn't slur—please," he murmured apologetically.
"Did I slur?" she asked. "Well, I assure you, it was unconscious. I didn't mean to do it."
"You are very happy here?" he asked.
"Yes," she answered, surprised at the irrelevancy of the question.
He was now stroking her hair with his gentle, loving hand.
"You have everything in the world, everything?" he asked.