‘I left her at the Breidenbacher Hof. Yes, she is with me—my poor little Avice! What will become of her in England—in Manchester perhaps, in the smoke and fog, while I am cooling my heels in a lawyer’s office?—for there will be no hurry about attending to my behests, my love. What she will be amusing herself with while I am agreeably engaged in learning how much we have left to starve upon, I do not know.’
‘Make me a promise!’ said Sara. ‘Show your devotion and your confidence by an unconditional promise at this very moment.’
‘I promise, blindly, to do as you command.’
‘Then I command you to leave your sister here with me, while you go home. When you are perfectly satisfied that you have found a place for her, such as you would wish her to be in, then you can come over here and fetch her. Till then, let her remain with me, and try whether she can learn to be my sister.’
‘Sara, you must be inspired, I believe,’ exclaimed Jerome. ‘I could have asked no better boon—none as good, for her and for me. I will not deprecate such generosity. I take you at your word. Teach her only to be a little like yourself, and I shall find her perfect.’
‘You will bring her to me to-morrow morning, will you not, before you go away? What a joy it will be to have her! I know I shall love her, and I think I can make her love me; and it will bind your thoughts the faster to Elberthal,’ she added, looking at him with a tender smile.
Jerome took one of her hands, and sat with it in his, as Sara closed her eyes, and leaned back in her chair, wearied with the excess of emotion she had gone through.
‘God knows, it is a wrench though, to find all this wealth of love to-night, and to have to leave it in the morning,’ muttered Jerome, darkly.
‘God knows, it is!’ echoed Sara.
‘I have an undercurrent of feeling,’ he went on, ‘which makes me almost wish I had never crossed your path, nor linked your lot with mine. The whole future is so dark and troubled. You were so happy and at peace, and your art was all in all to you.’