manner had surprised and touched her; for worlds she would
not have given this earnest man the reasons that she had used against
her brother-in-law. She stood at the door awhile, and looked down the
street, to see if Walter was not coming home.

The night had quite closed in; a mild warm night like midsummer. She
could scarcely say why she felt so strangely loath to go into the
house.

At last she went upstairs, without first going into the Meister's room
to bid him good night, though she heard him hobbling about, in evident
expectation of her coming in to give him an account of what had passed.
But she longed to be alone; and the moment she reached her room, she
drew the bolt after her, and lightened her bosom with a few deep drawn
sighs. It was so dark, that she groped about some time before she could
find her matchbox, which was not in its proper place. Altogether, she
thought, some one must have been there, and disturbed the method of her
usual arrangements. At last she found her lamp; but before she had
lighted it, a musing mood came over her, to which she found the
darkness most congenial.

She went to the window, and leaning her brow against the cool glass,
she tried to live over the last few hours.

Here, on this very spot, she had poured forth her whole heart in a
torrent of tears. Now she felt it aching still, but there was a
sweetness in the pain.

She now foresaw that from year to year she would become lonelier and
more alone, and that at last she _would_ have to give up the only being
she loved. But her affection for him--_that_ she felt, nothing ever
could oblige her to give up. Even if he could be happy without her,
she, at least, never could care for any happiness that severed them.

On reflection, she became more composed; nay, cheerful. She began to
long for his return, that they might have a quiet evening together like
the last.

All at once, she heard a sound quite close to her, she thought it might
be he, and that she had overheard his step in the next room.

"Is it you, night-rover that you are, Sir?"

No answer--yet she felt certain that she had not mistaken. She listened
with sharpened attention; again that suppressed sound. "Who is there?"
she called out, with a leaping heart. Still no answer!--She went to the
table to light her lamp; suddenly a dark shadow was at her side, and a
nimble hand stopped hers, as she was about to strike a light. She was
not much startled:

"What are you