Through a
rush of uncontrollable tears he nodded yes.
And she did tell him,--in words which were not sentences, with
sharp flashes of thought--such flashes as alone could penetrate the
semi-consciousness into which she must reach; after a moment of pause in
which to gather herself together for the great battle of her life, with
concentration, illumination, with a piercing eloquence which brought hot
tears to every cheek, and deep, deep prayers to hearts which would have
said they did not know how to pray--a woman fighting for the man she
loved, human love at its whitest heat pitted against destiny--she told
him.
"Karl," at the last--"you _understand?_--That's the great
secret!--_That's_ the great picture! I've not painted one stroke this
winter! I've been working for _you_--working in your laboratory every
day--studying day and night--getting ready to be your eyes--going to give
you back your work--oh, Karl--_Karl_--won't you--" but the sobs could
hold back no longer.
She had reached him.
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