reproach to me. And now--"

"I have a great favor to ask of you," she suddenly interrupted.

"Julie, what could you ask that I would not joyfully--"

"I would love so dearly to see the child. Will you bring it to me? or
will you go there with me?"

He took a step toward her; now, for the first time, he ventured to look
her in the face. She rose and went forward to meet him.

"Dear friend," she said, "I must know this child. No matter how well it
may be taken care of where it is, it is and always will be motherless.
It can only find a mother again in her who loves the father more than
all else, and who would take to her heart all that belongs to him. Do
you not see that you must bring the child to me?"

"Julie!" he cried, in a tone that burst from his innermost heart, just
as when a dreamer with a loud cry shakes off the nightmare that is so
suffocating him. He staggered toward her, and tried to seize her hand;
but she drew back a step, shook her head gently, and said, with a
blush:

"Listen patiently to what I am going to say, or else it will be hard
for me to control myself and find the words. The sad story you have
just told me has given me a great deal to think of; I have not yet
clearly fixed it in my mind. But one thing is already clear to me: that
nothing in your past life can ever separate me from you. On the
contrary, I have been continually testing my feeling during your
confession, and have found that I love you now even more wholly than I
did yesterday, and that I know better _why_ I love you, if this is not
a senseless thing to say. My heart is old enough to be wise, and to
know why it loves any one, though my head is not quite so ready. And
so, my dearest friend, I now seriously declare to you, I have not the
slightest intention of ceasing to love you because so and so many years
ago you made the mistake of believing another human being to be better
than she really was. I will go still further: you shall not cease to
love me either, unless you made a second mistake yesterday, which I
confess would be much more painful to me than that first one."

She did not succeed in uttering these last words, for, overwhelmed with
joy, Jansen had seized her in his arms. He held her long in this
embrace, until at last she recovered breath enough to beg for her
release.

"No, no," she said, as she gently freed herself, "do not do so, dear,
or I will take it all back again; for you and I are not to be spared
our