“But you have friends,” said Louise; “sincere friends. You must think with pleasure of returning home to Denmark. My mother loves you as if she were your own mother. Wilhelm and Sophie—yes, we will consider you as a brother.”
“And Sophie?” exclaimed Otto.
“Yes, can you doubt it?” inquired Louise.
“She knows me not as you know me; and if she did?”—He pressed his hands before his eyes and burst into tears. “You know all: you know more than I could tell her,” sighed he. “I am more unfortunate than you can believe. Never can I forget her—never!”
“For Heaven’s sake compose yourself!” said Louise rising. “Some one might come, and you would not be able to conceal your emotion. All may yet be well! Confide only in God in heaven!”
“Do not tell your sister that which I have told you. Do not tell any one. I have revealed to you every secret which my soul contains.”
“I will be to you a good sister,” said Louise, and pressed his hand.
They silently walked down the avenue.
The sisters slept in the same room.
At night, after Sophie had been an hour in bed, Louise entered the chamber.