‘The way is clear, friend Wellfield. Surely you would not be so selfish as to stand between her and such a marriage as is waiting to be accepted by her!’ [Illustration] CHAPTER VIII. FATHER SOMERVILLE GATHERS THE THREADS TOGETHER. SARA had a short visit on the following morning from Father Somerville, paid ostensibly for the purpose of telling her his arrangements, and asking if Avice could be ready by a certain hour on the following day. ‘Yes,’ replied Sara; ‘if you will be at the _Bergisch-Märk’sche_ station at the hour you mention, Miss Wellfield and my servant will meet you in ample time.’ Somerville’s countenance changed a little. ‘Surely there is no need for you to inconvenience yourself by parting with your servant,’ he began. ‘Allow me to judge what is necessary. Miss Wellfield will not leave me except under my maid’s care, who will see her to her brother’s house, and can then return to me.’ He bit his lips and apologised, saying that no doubt Miss Ford was perfectly right. In the evening, despite her protestations against it, she was made to go to the Wilhelmis’. Luise ‘made a point of it,’ and Sara, weary of striving, and wishing also to avoid painful conversation with Avice, who insisted upon having all kinds of messages given for Jerome, who she was sure would be dreadfully disappointed if she presented herself to him without such proofs of affection—Sara, sad and spiritless, went about eight o’clock to the big house in the Königsallée. All the beautiful rooms were thrown open: there was talking and laughing, music and dancing going on. As Sara entered, looking pale and indifferent, but splendidly handsome, as usual, in her cream-coloured cashmere and pale roses with glossy leaves, Luise Wilhelmi came dancing up to her, looking sparklingly beautiful, and glowing with life and excitement. She was followed of course by her gigantic Max, smiling, handsome, devoted, ineffably happy, as usual. ‘Oh, Sara, your Father Somerville is delightful!’ exclaimed Luise. ‘I have quite lost my heart to him. If he were not a priest I should run away with him—do you hear, Max?’ Sara saw nothing in this even to smile at. What was a light jest to Luise Wilhelmi, was deadly pain and misery to her. Max Helmuth laughed a mighty, not very meaning laugh. Was he not in honour bound to laugh at all the jokes or would-be jokes of this sprightly little lady, who, so everyone said, was so much cleverer than himself? ‘Look how amiable he is!’ pursued Luise; ‘even making himself agreeable to the poor Goldmark there.’ Sara turned hastily, and looked across the room to where indeed Somerville was seated beside Frau Goldmark; his pale, handsome face leaning a little towards her, in marked contrast with her flushed excited countenance. ‘Really, Luise, I wonder that Frau Goldmark persists in coming to these large parties under the circumstances!’ she exclaimed involuntarily.