“This is a happiness,” he murmured, “for which I had never dared to hope. Are you, too, an alien?”
She shook her head.
“This,” she said, “is the land of my adoption. Perhaps you did not know that I am Mrs. Peterson?”
“I did not know it,” he answered, gravely, “for I never heard of your marriage.”
They turned together toward the house. Mr. Sabin was amazed to find that the possibilities of emotion were still so great with him.
“I married,” she said softly, “an American, six years ago. He was the son of the minister at Vienna. I have lived here mostly ever since.”
“Do you know who it was that sent me to you?”
She assented quietly.
“It was Felix.”
They drew nearer the house. Mr. Sabin looked around him. “It is very beautiful here,” he said.