This opened the way to a conversation about the pictures in general of the late Herr Goldmark, then to a description of the lebenden Bildern, and the pictures in which Sara Ford had taken part: to the fact that in ‘Yes or No’ she had looked so beautiful, that Herr Falkenberg had bought the picture the very next morning.
‘Oh! he bought it, did he? That is he, I think, talking to Miss Ford now.’
‘Most certainly, that is he. He appears to spend most of his time in talking to Miss Ford. We have all come to the conclusion that the only thing which keeps him so long in Elberthal is Miss Ford’s presence.’
‘Ah! you think he wishes to marry Miss Ford.’
‘It looks like it. What is quite certain is, that she would be overjoyed if he asked her.’
If Frau Goldmark could have caught the expression in Father Somerville’s half-veiled eyes at that moment, she might have changed her opinion as to his extreme affability. The look said: ‘How dare a little insect like you presume to pass judgment on that woman!’ The man had no good designs towards Sara and her happiness. She stood between him and the accomplishment of a purpose which had now crystallised in his mind into a set scheme and plan, which he was resolved to do all in his power to carry out; but though he would crush her himself, and smite down her life, no spite would enter into his arrangements. He perfectly comprehended what she was, and knew that had he been other than he was, he would have sacrificed all he had for the chance of winning her; he knew that she had about as much desire to captivate Rudolf Falkenberg as he had himself; and he knew that the woman beside him had a small mind which could not rise to the level of those who had roused her enmity, by first doing her great kindnesses, and then, perhaps, snubbing her a little.
That was nothing to the purpose. He encouraged Frau Goldmark to ramble on, giving him one proof after another of the attachment existing between Falkenberg and Sara. The latter he felt to be a mistake. Sara did not love Falkenberg—she loved Jerome Wellfield; but the former he believed and grasped at. Every sign of devotion on Rudolf’s part put a weapon into his hands for the furtherance of his plan. He heard glowing accounts of Falkenberg’s riches and great possessions; of his status in the world of finance; of his interviews with royal and imperial personages and their ministers; of what changes a word of his could work in the state of the Börse; in short, every word that Frau Goldmark said convinced him that here was a splendid alliance, waiting for Sara Ford to ratify it; that nothing prevented that ratification, except the insignificant fact that she was bound to Jerome Wellfield, and, incidentally, of course, that she loved him as her life.
He left early, excusing himself on the plea that he had to travel early the following day, and that he had one or two important letters to write that night—which was true. He repaired to his hotel, to his own room, drew out writing-materials, and wrote:
‘Dear Wellfield,
‘I am going to send this off by the midnight post, and as it is now nearly eleven, I have not too much time. By doing this, you will receive it twelve hours before my arrival with Miss Wellfield. I called at Miss Ford’s house yesterday, and found her at home. Do you know, once it came into my head that Miss Ford might be the lady to whom you told me honour bound you, but I very soon abandoned that idea, for all the world credits her with being betrothed, or about to be betrothed, to Rudolf Falkenberg, the great Frankfort banker. You know whom I mean. If I may judge from my own observation, I should say report was right. He was sitting with her when I arrived, and I saw that I was unwelcome to both. He certainly pays her most devoted attention, and she, I should imagine, was far from feeling indifferent to him. These envious German women say: “What a match for her;” but I think you will agree with me that an Englishwoman like Miss Ford (for I take it for granted that you do know her pretty well) is more than worthy of anything that any man of any nation may have to offer her. She certainly is a magnificent being. But enough of this. Your sister will no doubt regale you with the same news, for she appears devoted to Miss Ford. The latter sends her maid to travel along with Miss Wellfield. I suppose we shall arrive at Wellfield about five in the afternoon. I have been wondering how your affairs are progressing. How glad I should be to hear on my arrival that the thing I so wish for were accomplished, and that you had decided to take that place which you assuredly ought to have. Well, I shall soon see you, I suppose. By the way, on our way through London we shall call at the Great Western Hotel to breakfast or rest, that will be the morning of the day after to-morrow. If you have any communication telegraph to me there. Time presses, so, until I place Miss Wellfield under your brotherly protection, farewell.
‘Yours ever,
‘Pablo Somerville.’
Somerville himself sallied forth with this to the General Post, ascertained that it was in time for the night-mail, and that it would reach its destination on the following evening. Then he returned to his hotel, sighed, undressed, stretched himself upon his couch, and slept that sleep of the labouring man, which we are told is sweet.