Then she came close up to
him, in more complete contrition, penitence, and wretchedness than
he had ever seen in life or art. Her face stiffened with terror,
her eyes fixed, her whole frame rigid, only her tears flowed
quietly, without a sob. She must and would have him. She seemed to
draw him to herself as into a vortex: her love had become the
necessity of her life, its utterances the wild cry of despair.
He understood it now. But he put the things into his trunk and
fastened it, took a few steps about the room, as if he were alone,
with such an expression of face that she herself saw that the
thing was impossible.
"Do you not believe," she said quietly, "that I would relieve you
of all cares, so that you could go on with your own work? Have you
not seen that I can manage your mother?" She paused a moment, then
added: "Hellebergene--I know the place. The Dean is a relation of
mine. I have been there; that would be something that I could take
charge of; do you not think so? And the cement quarries," she
added; "I have a turn for business: it should be no trouble to
you." She said this in an undertone.
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