the exact image of that
little girl," he said, "except that you are even purer and finer. She
had no chance, none whatever. You live in the woman's age. Your
opportunities will be infinite. I shall see to it that they are. What
you wish to be you shall be. There will be no pent-up energies here to
burst out into disaster for yourself and others. You shall be trained to
self-control--that is, if you ever develop self-will, dear child--every
faculty shall be educated, every school of life you desire knowledge
through shall be opened to you. You shall become that finest flower of
civilization, a woman who knows how to use her independence."

She raised her eyes slowly, and gave him a look which stirred the roots
of sensation--a long look of unspeakable melancholy. Her chest rose
once; then she set her lips tightly, and dropped her eyes.

"What do you mean?" he cried, roughly, for his soul was chattering.
"Is--it--do you--?" He dared not go too far, and concluded lamely, "You
mean you fear that your mother will not give you to me when she
goes--you have divined that I wish to adopt you? Answer me, will you?"

But she only lowered her head and turned away, and he, fearing to
frighten or repel her, apologized for his abruptness, restored the outer
picture to its place, and led her from the gallery.

He sent her at once to the nursery, and when she came down to luncheon
and took her place at his right hand, she was as natural and childlike
as ever. For some days he restrained his curiosity, but one evening, as
they were sitting before the fire in the hall listening to the storm,
and just after he had told her the story of the erl-king, he took her on
his knee and asked her gently if she would not tell him what had been in
her thoughts when he had drawn her brilliant future. Again her face
turned gray, and she dropped her eyes.

"I cannot," she said. "I--perhaps--I don't know."

"Was it what I suggested?"

She shook her head, then looked at him with a shrinking appeal which
forced him to drop the subject.

He went the next day alone to the gallery, and looked long at the
portrait of the woman. She stirred no response in him. Nor could he feel
that the woman of Blanche's future would stir the man in him. The
paternal was all he had to give, but that was hers forever.

He went out into the park and found Blanche digging in her garden, very
dirty and absorbed. The next afternoon, however, entering the hall
noiselessly,