“Do you remember,” I said, “how in the days gone by—­those happier days—­you asked me why I did not remain in the country, and turn my abilities to some use.  It was when I came home late, and you were sitting up for me.  I cannot tell you even what power you had over me.  I could not then begin to work, I had to go away; then came my father’s death.  But I never forgot those words.  I have come back now to live and to work at home, and if I ever achieve anything it will be owing to you,—­your influence will be the source of my achievement.”

There ensued a momentary silence between us, broken only by the whistling of the orioles.  Aniela was evidently searching for a reply, and at last said,—­

“I cannot believe that a man like you should not be able to find a more weighty inducement.  You know very well it is your duty, and what is past is past, and now everything is changed.”

“I am not so sure of that,” I replied.  “Perhaps, when once I start, I shall find in the work itself some pleasure and encouragement.  But a man like me, who, in spite of what you are saying about duty, has never been, fully conscious of it, must have some personal reason for changing the whole tenor of his life; and the more he is unhappy, the more he wants that personal inducement.  Why should I tell you what is not true?  I am not happy.  The consciousness of duty is a beautiful thing, no doubt; but unfortunately I do not have it.  You, who are so much better, nobler than I, could have taught it me; but it was fated otherwise.  But even now, if only for the sake of those times when you wanted me to do something, I can do it still if you will help me.”

Aniela hastened her steps, as if she wanted to return home, and said almost in a whisper,—­

“Do not say that, Leon; please do not.  You know I cannot do it.”

“Why can you not?  Do not understand me wrongly.  You are and always will be a very dear sister to me.  It is only this I wanted you to know.”

Aniela almost feverishly gave me her hand, which I raised reverently to my lips.

“Yes, I will be that,—­always that,” she replied quickly.

And I saw what a heavy weight I had lifted from her mind; how that one word “sister” had calmed and moved her.  This made me recover all my self-possession; for, when I had touched her hand with my lips, it almost grew dark before my eyes, and I wanted to take her in my arms, and tell her the whole truth.  In the mean time Aniela’s face had grown brighter and more cheerful.  As we came nearer the house, her trouble seemed to slip off from her, and seeing how much I had gained by taking this way with her, I continued in the same strain of friendly conversation.