He took it in, just a little at first, but
comprehension was growing, and upon his face a great wondering, a
softening.
"Old man,"--it was Dr. Parkman now--"you get that? See what you've got
ahead? God, man--but it was splendid! She came to me with the idea--_her_
idea--thought it all out herself. Karl was not happy--Karl must have his
work. Karl--Karl--it was nothing but Karl. She was closer to him than any
one in the world. She could make him see what others could not. Then
_she_ would be his eyes. Man--do you know that this woman has fairly made
over her soul for love of you? Do you know that she has given up becoming
one of the great painters of the world to become your assistant? Do you
get it, Karl? So help me God it was the pluckiest fight I've ever seen or
heard of. And she's won! I'm no fool--and I say she can do what she says
she can. She's ready. She's ready to begin to-morrow. What do you say,
old man? What do you think of Ernestine now? Isn't she worth taking a
good brace and living for?"
And then he got it all; he was taking it in, rising to it, understanding,
glowing.
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