"But you are looking tired, Natalie."
"I did not sleep much last night. I was thinking."
The tears started to her eyes; she impatiently brushed them aside.
"I know what you were thinking. That is why I came so early to see you. You were blaming yourself for what has happened. That is not right. You are not to blame at all. Do you think I gave you that promise for nothing?"
"You were always like that," she said in a low voice. "Very generous and unselfish. Yes, I—I—was miserable; I thought if you had never known me—"
"If I had never known you! You think that would be a desirable thing for me!—"
But at this moment the hurried, anxious, half-whispered conversation had to cease, for Madame Potecki came up. Nor was she surprised to find Mr. Brand there. On the contrary, she said that her time was limited, and that she could not expect other people to care for old porcelain as much as she did; and if Mr. Brand would take her dear daughter Natalie to see some pictures in the rooms up-stairs, she would come and find her out by-and-by.
"Not at all, dear madame," said Natalie, with some slight flush. "No. We will go with you to see the three wonderful vases."
So they went, and saw the three crackle vases, and many another piece of porcelain and enamel and bronze; but always the clever little Polish woman took care that she should be at some other case, so that she could not overhear what these two had to say to each other. And they had plenty to say.
"Why, Natalie, where is your courage? What is the going to America? It cannot be for ever and ever."