“Yes, indeed,” said the girl assentingly, but no joyous look came into her pale face, such as shone from Fani’s eyes.  “When I sit here I always think of Nora.  There’s such a beautiful view of the sunset from here.  And then I think of the evening when she went away, how the whole sky was golden, as if the heavens were open, and you could look right into them and see the crystal river flowing there forever.  Whenever it is a clear evening, and the red clouds come in the west, I always think that Nora is looking down at me and beckoning me to come to her.  How dearly I should love to go!”

Fani sprang to his feet in great distress.

“How can you talk so, Elsli?  Here we are living so happily together.  Nobody was ever so happy as we are, and yet you talk as if it was all nothing, and all you want is to die!  I’m sure I don’t want to die, and you ought not to.  And if you were to talk in this way to Mrs. Stanhope just once, what do you suppose would happen?  I can tell you—­she’d just send us straight home, I know; and how would you like that?  And I’m certain that she means to have us stay here always; for several times when I’ve said something about being a painter she has begun to talk about the future, and she takes it for granted that you and I are to live with her.  Just think of that!  Then I shall be a gentleman and you a lady like Mrs. Stanhope, and then—­”

“Oh, Fani, you trouble me still more when you talk so,” interrupted Elsli, sadly.  “I see more plainly every day that I can never be what Mrs. Stanhope wants me to be.  I am afraid she will be more and more vexed about it, and will like me less and less.  And you too will be ashamed of me by and by, because I cannot be what you would like to have me.”

Fani had seated himself again at Elsli’s side, but at these words he sprang again to his feet, crying out reproachfully:—­

“Oh, Elsli, what strange notions have you taken into your head?  It isn’t pleasant in you to talk so.  Why don’t you think of all the nice things there are, and what good times we have together, and let all these melancholy ideas go?”

“I don’t think of melancholy things on purpose, Fani, and I wish I did not at all,” said Elsli, pleadingly.  “It is this way.  Whenever I begin to think of something very pleasant, then sad thoughts come into my mind, and I keep wondering whether there isn’t something that I can do for those in trouble, and then I am unhappy because I can’t think of anything.  I see so many things that you don’t see, and I can’t get them out of my head all day long.”

“What sort of things?” asked the boy in surprise.

“Well, for instance, twice when we have been coming home from our afternoon walk, we have met a man with a heavy shovel on his shoulder, and you didn’t notice him because you were so busy talking with Mrs. Stanhope.  The man looked down on the ground, just as father does when he comes home at night all tired out and says, ’We shall hardly pull through, if I work ever so hard; I’m afraid we can’t keep out of debt.’  I’m sure that man is worried just as father was, and I keep thinking if I could only go after him and find out where he lives, I might do him some good, perhaps.”