et the physician discovered by
feeling his pulse just as the queen was entering the room. Well, I
couldn't introduce the man whom I suspected into Leah's sick chamber.
There was an obstacle in the way. But his name, which I uttered
apparently without design, while clasping the delicate round wrist of
the little Jewish-Christian, produced precisely the same effect. A
sudden quickening of the pulse to forty more throbs a minute.

"Of course the case is not particularly interesting to you," he
continued, as Edwin made no reply but with averted face gazed steadily
out of the window. "You've never had any different feeling for this
pupil, than for any other student. At that time you'd been bitten by
the serpent, and even if you had been offered the three graces attired
in their authentic Olympic costume, you would have blindly pursued the
ducal banner. Whether under these circumstances, however, it would be
well for you to pay your visit to the Venetian palace today, you must
decide yourself. True, we usually recommend rubbing chilblains with
snow, but unfortunately a woman's heart is somewhat more delicately
organized than the sturdy extremities. I thought it my duty to make
this acknowledgement. Adieu!"

He patted his silent friend on the shoulder and left him alone.

It would be impossible to describe Edwin's state of mind in a few
words; we can scarcely venture to say whether joy or perplexity
predominated in his strange bewilderment. The first overwhelming
surprise was succeeded by the sense of secret shame that this could
have so amazed him, the burden of a fault, which pardonable on account
of its total unconsciousness, was yet unable to wholly absolve itself
from the charge of ingratitude. How selfishly unfeeling it now seemed,
that he had not even repaid with friendly recognition her many
unobtrusive tokens of the most humble affection! Even today, when he
had determined to see her again, it was principally the father, toward
whom he thought he had a duty to fulfil. And now he learned that the
happiness and misery of this young girl's life depended upon his
presence or absence.

He closed his eyes and recalled all the scenes in which she had played
a part, from the first interview in the little house to the evening
when she had stood beside Balder's catafalque and gazed at the still
face with an expression of the deepest woe. He saw her so distinctly
that he could have sketched her features line for line, the be