Not the words, but the tone, touched all that was generous and noble
in his nature. He left his place and knelt beside her, and opened
to her his whole heart.

"Am I not unworthy of you?" he asked, when it was over.

She pressed his hand in silence.

"I should be the most ungrateful wretch living," he said, "if I did
not think of you, and you only, now that my confession is made.
We will leave Munich to-morrow, and, if resolution can help me,
I will only remember the sweetest woman my eyes ever looked on as
the creature of a dream."

She hid her face on his breast, and reminded him of that letter of
her writing which had decided the course of their lives.

"When I thought you might meet the happy woman in my lifetime
I said to you, 'Tell me of it, and I promise to tell her that she
has only to wait.' Time must pass, Ernest, before it can be needful
to perform my promise, but you might let me see her. If you find
her in the gallery to-morrow you might bring her here."

Mrs. Lismore's request met with no refusal. Ernest was only at a
loss to know how to grant it.

"You tell me she is a copyist of pictures," his wife reminded him.
"She will be interested in hearing of the portfolio of drawings
by the great French artists which I bought for you in Paris. Ask
her to come and see them, and to tell you if she can make some copies;