music. Then
she began to sob--not loudly, but in a subdued, despairing way. She
was not conscious of her grief, but only of his words--of the dream
vanished, the hopes shattered.

"Never?" she said brokenly.

"Never!" he replied in a hoarse whisper.

Mr. Feuerstein looked down at Hilda's quivering shoulders with
satisfaction. "I thought I could make even her feel," he said to
himself complacently. Then to her in the hoarse undertone: "And my
heart is breaking."

She straightened and her tears seemed to dry with the flash of her
eyes. "Don't say that--you mustn't!" She blazed out before his
astonished eyes, a woman electric with disdain and anger. "It's
false--false! I hate you--hate you--you never cared--you've made a
fool of me--"

"Hilda!" He felt at home now and his voice became pleading and
anguished. "You, too, desert me! Ah, God, whenever was there man so
wretched as I?" He buried his face in his hands.

"Oh, you put it on well," she scoffed. "But I know what it all means."

Mr. Feuerstein rose wearily. "Farewell," he said in a broken voice.
"At least I am glad you will be spared the suffering that is blasting
my life. Thank God, she did not love me!"

The physical fact of his rising to go struck her courage full in the
face.

"No--no," she urged hurriedly, "not yet--not just yet--wait a few
minutes more--"

"No--I must go--farewell!" And he seated himself beside her, put his
arm around her.

She lay still in his arms for a moment, then murmured: "Say it isn't
so, Carl--dear!"

"I would say there is hope, heart's darling," he whispered, "but I have
no right to blast your young life. And I may never return."

She started up, her face glowing.

"Then you WILL return?"

"It may be that I can," he answered. "But--"

"Then I'll wait--gladly. No matter how long it is, I'll wait. Why
didn't you say at first, 'Hilda, something I can't tell you about has
happened. I must go away. When I can, I'll come.' That would have
been enough, because I--I love you!"

"What have I done to deserve such love as this!" he exclaimed, and for
an instant he almost forgot himself in her beauty and sweetness and
sincerity.

"Will it be long?" she asked after a while.

"I hope not, bride of my soul. But I can not--dare not say."

"Wherever you go, and no matter what happens, dear," she said softly,
"you'll always know that I'm loving you, won't you?" And she looked at
him with great, luminous,