Leonora looked at him smilingly. "It is I, godfather," she said,
offering him her hand.
"Ah, it is you, Leonora Prohaska," exclaimed M. Werkmeister, putting
down the box. "You have received my letter, then, my child? You have
at length made up your mind to comply with my wishes--to come to my
house, and to assist my wife at the store and in the household?
Well, you could not have come at a better hour, and I thank you for
your kindness."
Leonora fixed her large dark eyes with an affectionate expression on
the good-natured, pleasant face of the merchant, and stepping up to
him laid both her hands on his shoulders. "Godfather, dear
godfather," she said, greatly moved, "do not be angry with me, and
forgive me for coming only to tell you I cannot accept your offer.
Do not ask me why I cannot. I am not allowed to tell you the reason,
but I know that, when you learn it some day, you will certainly
approve what I have done. I really am no ungrateful girl, but I
cannot come to you, dear M. Werkmeister. I have greater and holier
duties to fulfil--duties to which God Himself has called me!"
"That is to say, my child, you do not wish to leave your poor old
parents?" asked Mr. Werkmeister, in great emotion. "You will stay
with them at their small house and eat the invalid's brown bread
rather than live luxuriously at the beautiful capital of Prussia?
You are right, perhaps, my child.
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