She believed that that would be true, that the things his blindness taught him to see would more than atone for the things shut away. And would not she herself come to love the work just because of what it meant to Karl? Care for it because of what it could do for him? Loving it first because he loved it, would not she come to love it for itself? A quiver of pain had drawn the beautiful light from his face. "Tell me about your work, dear," he said abruptly. "You haven't said much about it of late." She turned away her face. She was always forgetting that he could not see her face. "You know you must get to work, sweetheart," he went on as she did not answer. "I am expecting great things of my little girl." "I hope you will not be disappointed," she answered, very low. "Of course I'll not be--if you just get to work. Now when are you going to begin?" "I'm going to begin Monday," replied Ernestine. "Good! Painting some great picture?" She hesitated. "I hope it will be a great picture." "Tell me about it." "I can tell you better, dear, when it is a little farther along." "You love your work, Ernestine. You have the real, true, fundamental love for it. I always loved to see your face light up when you spoke of your work. Is your face lighted up now?" he asked, a little whimsically, but earnestly. She laughed, but the laugh caught in her throat. "Will you tell me about your picture as it progresses, dear? Don't be afraid to talk to me of your work, Ernestine. Things will be less hard for me, if I think you are happy. And it will be good to know there is to be some great thing come of our love, dear. I want something to stand for it, something beautiful and great." "There will be!" she said passionately. "There is going to be." "I know," he said gently. "I am sure of it." He stroked her face lovingly then. He loved so to do that. "Will you mind much, Karl," she began, a little timidly, "if I am away from you some this year?" "Away from me?" he asked, startled. "Why, what do you mean, Ernestine?" "Oh, not that I am going away," she hastened. "But, as I say, I am going to begin my work on Monday, and part of the time I shall be working, away from home." "You mean in some studio?" Her face grew troubled; she frowned a little, bit her lip, but after a second's hesitation, answered: "Yes." "Found some fellow to study with?" And again she answered yes. "Well now look here, liebchen, have I been such a brute that you thought I wouldn't want you to set foot out of the house? I didn't suppose there was anyone here you'd have much to gain from, but if there is, so much the better. I want you to go right ahead and do your best--don't you know that?" But there was a note of forced cheer in it. It would be hard for Karl to feel she was not in the house, when he had come to depend on her for so many things. She could not tell him why she was willing to be away from him. It hurt her to think he might feel she did not understand.