‘Heavens!’
‘And I spoke disrespectfully of the Church. My aunt and cousins were speechless, and sent me to Coventry for a long time. I remembered how well my pictures had sold at some fancy fairs and bazaars in London, to which I had sometimes contributed, and I resolved that I would use the powers God had given me. I laid all my plans in silence, only taking my old Ellen into my confidence. She vowed she would follow me to the world’s end.’
‘Of course!’
‘Of course? Not at all. She had an excellent situation offered her, as housekeeper, in an English country house, where she could have done as she pleased, and where she also would have received a hundred a year. When incomes dwindle down to hundreds, Herr Falkenberg, one finds one’s-self on a pecuniary level with strange companions sometimes.’
‘How you harp upon that stupid hundred pounds!’ exclaimed Falkenberg. ‘I believe you wish to defy me with it. Well?’
‘She gave it up, and accompanied me. There was a storm at the rectory when I unfolded my plans. My uncle forbade me to go, and said it would have broken my mother’s heart.’ Her lip curled scornfully. ‘My mother, who always taught me that no kind of work was shameful, and that every kind of idleness was! Naturally I took no notice of that. My cousins said I was a Bohemian, and liked adventures, and that it all came of my having been brought up amongst unbelievers. My aunt was speechless for a time, and then said, “Go abroad, child, alone! What will you do for a chaperon, when you are invited anywhere?”’
‘And you?’ he asked, laughing.
‘I said, “I suppose I shall go without one.” And then I came to Elberthal. I have been there now for two years. One of my cousins occasionally writes to me, and I to her. The rest ignore me. And I—have learnt to live alone. With plenty of work it is not so very difficult, and the depraved nature of the German customs has even allowed me to go out without a chaperon now and then, without visiting the sin too severely upon me.’
‘Then how did you meet with the Trockenaus?’
‘Ah!’ said Sara, a smile of pleasure flashing over her face, ‘that was another pleasant thing. Count Trockenau was once a student in the very college in which my father was professor of history, and had attended some of his lectures; and, it seems, had been at his house, and seen me when I was a mere child. I don’t remember it, but he does. They saw a picture with my name, at an exhibition in Berlin; and he actually took the trouble to ascertain whether I had anything to do with the Professor Ford he had known. That is a year ago; since then, they have been unvaryingly kind to me. But people are kind, it seems to me. As for Countess Carla—she is goodness itself.’