He studied her face intently:  there was nothing there but a vague bewilderment.  He grew more and more to fear the effect of the shock.

“Yes, yes.  Can you not think, now, if it were possible that one whom you have always thought to be dead—­whom you have loved all through your life—­if it were she herself—­”

She withdrew her hands from his, and caught the back of a chair.  She was ghastly pale; for a second she did not speak.

“You will kill me—­if it is not true,” she said, in a low voice, and still staring at him with frightened, bewildered eyes.

“Natalie, it is true,” said he, stepping forward to catch her by the arm, for he thought she was going to fall.

She sunk into a chair, and covered her face with her hands—­not to cry, but to think.  She had to reverse the belief of a lifetime in a second.

But suddenly she started up, her face still white, her lips firm.

“Take me to her; I must see her; I will go at once.”

“You shall not,” he said, promptly; but he himself was beginning to breathe more freely.  “I will not allow you to see her until you are perfectly calm.”

He put his hand on her arm gently.

“Natalie,” said he, “you must calm yourself—­for her sake.  She has been suffering; she is weak; any wild scene would do her harm.  You must calm yourself, my darling; you must be the braver of the two; you must show yourself very strong—­for her sake.”

“I am quite calm,” she said, with pale lips.  She put her left hand over her heart.  “It is only my heart that beats so.”

“Well, in a little while—­”

“Now—­now!” she pleaded, almost wildly.  “I must see her.  When I try to think of it, it is like to drive me mad; I cannot think at all.  Let us go!”

“You must think,” he said firmly; “you must think of what you are going to say; and your dress, too.  Natalie, you must take that piece of scarlet ribbon away; one who is nearly related to you has just died.”

She tore it off instantly.

“And you know Magyar, don’t you, Natalie?”

“Oh yes, yes.”

“Because your mother has been learning English in order to be able to speak to you.”

Again she placed her hand over her heart, and there was a look of pain on her face.

“My dearest, let us go!  I can bear no more:  my heart will break!  See, am I not calm enough?  Do I tremble?”

“No, you are very courageous,” he said, looking at her doubtfully.

“Let us go!—­let us go!”

Her entreaties overcame his scruples.  The things she had thrown aside on coming in from her morning walk still lay there; she hastily put them on; and she herself led the way down-stairs.  He put her into the hansom, and followed; the man drove off.  She held her lover’s hand tight, as a sign of her gratitude.

“Mind, I depend on you, Natalie,” he said.

“Oh, do not fear,” she said, rather wildly; “why should one fear?  It seems to me all a strange sort of dream; and I shall waken out of it by-and-by, and go back to the house.  Why should I be surprised to see her, when she is my constant companion?  And do you think I shall not know what to say?—­I have talked to her all my life.”