But she had not been standing there for a couple of seconds when she
heard a well-known voice behind her.
"Natalie!"
She knew. There was neither surprise nor shamefacedness in her look when
she turned and saw George Brand before her. Her eyes were as fearless as
ever when they met his; and they were glad, too, with a sudden joy; and
she said, quickly,
"Ah, I thought you would come. I told Anneli."
"It was kind of you--and brave--to let me come to see you."
"Kind?" she said. "How could I do otherwise?"
"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."
"But even then," she said, in a low, hesitating voice. "If you were
never to see me again, you would blame me for it all. You would regret."
"How can I regret that my life was made beautiful to me, if only for a
time? It was worth nothing to me before. And you are forgetting all
about the ring, and my promise to you."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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