It was succeeded by weeks of the same delight. Aspatria soon learned to love Sarah. She had never before had a woman friend on whom she could rely and to whom she could open her heart. Sarah induced her to speak of Ulfar, to tell her all her suffering and her plans and hopes, and she gave her in return a true affection and a most sincere sympathy. Nothing of the past that referred to Ulfar was left untold; and as the two women sat together during the long summer days, they grew very near to each other, and there was but one mind and one desire between them. So that when the time came for Aspatria to go back to Mrs. St. Alban's, Sarah would not hear of their separation. "You have had enough of book-learning," she said. "Remain with me. We will go to Paris, to Rome, to Vienna. We will study through travel and society. It is by rubbing yourself against all kinds of men and women that you acquire the finest polish of life; and then when Ulfar comes back you will be able to meet him upon all civilized grounds. And as for the South Americans, we will buy all the books about them we can find. Are they red or white or black, I wonder? Are they pagans or Christians? I seem to remember that when I was at school I learned that the Peruvians worshipped the sun." "I think, Sarah, that they are all descendants of Spaniards; so they must be Roman Catholics. And I have read that their women are beautiful and witty." "My dear Aspatria, nothing goes with Spaniards but gravity and green olives." Aspatria was easily persuaded to accept Sarah's offer; she was indeed very happy in the prospect before her. But Brune was miserable. He had spent a rapturous summer, and it was to end without harvest, or the promise thereof. He could not endure the prospect, and one night he made a movement so decided that Sarah was compelled to set him back a little. "Were you ever in love, Mrs. Sandys?" poor Brune asked, with his heart filling his mouth. She looked thoughtfully at him a moment, and then slowly answered: "I once felt myself in danger, and I fled to France. I consider it the finest action of my life." Aspatria felt sorry for her brother, and she said warmly: "I think no one falls in love now. Love is out of date." Sarah enjoyed her temper. "You are right, dear," she answered. "Culture makes love a conscious operation. When women are all feeling, they fall in love; when they have intellect and will, they attach themselves only after a critical examination of the object." Later, when they were alone, Aspatria took her friend to task for her cruelty: "You know Brune loves you, Sarah; and you do love him. Why make him miserable? Has he presumed too far?" "No, indeed! He is as adoring and humble as one could wish a future lord and master to be." "Well, then?" "I will give our love time to grow. When we come back, if Brune has been true to me in every way, he may fall to blessing himself with both hands;" and then she began to sing,--