"Where shall I go?" he questioned, querulously, when, later, he told Giulia that his removal had been ordered. "A hotel is the most dismal place in the world for a sick man."
"Emil, how would you like a home of your own?" Giulia gravely inquired.
The word "home" thrilled him strangely, making him think yearningly of his mother and the comforts of his childhood, and an irresistible longing took possession of him.
"A home!" he repeated, bitterly. "How on earth could I make a home for myself?"
"I will make it for you—I will go to take care of you in it, if you like," she quietly answered.
"You!" he exclaimed in surprise, while, with sudden discernment, he remarked a certain refined beauty in her face that he had never observed before.
Then he added, with a sullen glance at his useless limbs, a strange sense of shame creeping over him:
"Do you still care enough for me to take that trouble?"
"I am willing to do my duty, Emil," she gravely replied.
"Ha! you evade me!" he cried, sharply, and piqued by her answer. "Tell me truly, Giulia, do you still love me well enough to be willing to devote your life to such a misshapen wretch as I shall always be?"