“Ah, well, Natalie,” said he, “some day the mass of the people of the earth will be brought to see that all that can be put a stop to, if they so choose.  They have the power:  Zahlen regieren die Welt; and how can one be better employed than in spreading abroad knowledge, and showing the poorer people of the earth how the world might be governed if they would only ally themselves together?  It would be more easy to persuade them if we had all of us your voice and your enthusiasm.”

“Mine?” she said.  “A woman’s talking is not likely to be of much use.  But,” she added, rather hesitatingly, “at least—­she can give her sympathy—­and her love—­to those who are doing the real work.”

“And I am going to earn yours, Natalie,” said he, cheerfully, “to such a degree as you have never dreamed of, when you and I together are away in the new world.  And that reminds me now you must not be frightened; but there is a little difficulty.  Of course you thought of nothing, when you wrote those lines, but of doing a kindness; that was like you; your heart speaks quickly.  Well—­”

He himself seemed somewhat embarrassed.

“You see, Natalie, there would be no difficulty at all if you and I could get married within the next few days.”

Her eyes were cast down, and she was silent.

“You don’t think it possible you could get your father to consent?” he said, but without much hope.

“Oh no, I think not; I fear not,” she said, in a low voice.

“Then you see, Natalie,” he continued—­and he spoke quite lightly, as if it was merely an affair of a moment—­“there would be this little awkwardness:  you are not of age; unless you get your father’s consent, you cannot marry until you are twenty-one.  It is not a long time—­”

“I did not think of it,” she said, very hurriedly, and even breathlessly.  “I only thought it—­it seemed hard you should go away alone—­and I considered myself already your wife—­and I said, ’What ought I to do?’ And now—­now you will tell me what to do.  I do not know—­I have no one to ask.”

“Do you think,” said he, after a pause, “that you would forget me, if you were to remain two years in England while I was in America?”

She regarded him for a moment with those large, true eyes of hers; and she did not answer in words.

“There is another way; but—­it is asking too much,” he said.

“What is it?” she said, calmly.

“I was thinking,” he said, with some hesitation, “that if I could bribe Madame Potecki to leave her music-lessons—­and take charge of you—­and bring you to America—­and you and she might live there until you are twenty-one—­but I see it is impossible.  It is too selfish.  I should not have thought of it.  What are two years, Natalie?”

The girl answered nothing; she was thinking deeply.  When she next spoke, it was about Lord Evelyn, and of the probability of his crossing to the States, and remaining there for a year or two; and she wanted to know more about the great country beyond the seas, and what was Philadelphia like.