"How beautiful you are! And what a little thing to have such a grief! Oh, it is cruel, cruel! Cry, dear, cry all you want to—it will do you good, and the pain will sooner be gone."
"O, Gott im Himmel," sobbed the German girl, "gieb mir Muth es zu ertragen!"
"But you are, oh, so much braver than I. Look at me, see what a great, big strong thing I am, and I moaned and cried because the world wasn't made to my liking! Oh, it makes me ashamed now, when I see such a little, frail thing as you suffer such a real sorrow! But I am your friend—your sister, if you will have me."
"How goot you are, meine liebe Freundin!" sobbed the girl.
"May you never have reason to change your opinion," replied Hope slowly, in German.
"She speaks my language!" exclaimed the German girl, with something like hopefulness in her voice.
"But very poorly," apologized Hope, looking for the first time at the man standing quietly in the doorway.
"It will comfort her that you speak it at all," he replied. "But without any language you would still be a comfort to her. I will leave her in your hands, Miss Hathaway. She has had a long journey and—must be very tired." He bowed and turned to go, but, recollecting something, came back into the room. "I am going now," he said to the German girl, "but I will come to see you often. You need have no fear when you are with—Hope."
Hope turned to him impulsively.
"You will do as you say," she begged. "You will come often to see her." Then added, "You know she'll be terribly lonely at first!"