ht you were to remain here
till All Saints' Day."

"So I should have done--so I must have done--if the Fraeulein had not
kindly given me leave to accept of a place--a very good place too--of
housekeeper to a widow lady at Frankfort. It is just the sort of
situation I have always wished for. I expect I shall be so happy and
comfortable there."

"Methinks the lady doth profess too much," came into my mind. I saw she
expected me to doubt the probability of her happiness, and was in a
defiant mood.

"Of course," said I, "you would hardly have wished to leave Heppenheim
if you had been happy here; and every new place always promises fair,
whatever its performance may be. But wherever you go, remember you have
always a friend in me."

"Yes," she replied, "I think you are to be trusted. Though, from my
experience, I should say that of very few men."

"You have been unfortunate," I answered; "many men would say the same of
women."

She thought a moment, and then said, in a changed tone of voice, "The
Fraeulein here has been much more friendly and helpful of these late
days than her brother; yet I have served him faithfully, and have cared
for his little Max as though he were my own brother. But this morning he
spoke to me for the first time for many days,--he met me in the passage,
and, suddenly stopping, he said he was glad I had met with so comfortable
a place, and that I was at full liberty to go whenever I liked: and then
he went quickly on, never waiting for my answer."

"And what was wrong in that? It seems to me he was trying to make you
feel entirely at your ease, to do as you thought best, without regard to
his own interests."

"Perhaps so. It is silly, I know," she continued, turning full on me her
grave, innocent eyes; "but one's vanity suffers a little when every one
is so willing to part with one."

"Thekla! I owe you a great debt--let me speak to you openly. I know
that your master wanted to marry you, and that you refused him. Do not
deceive yourself. You are sorry for that refusal now?"

She kept her serious look fixed upon me; but her face and throat
reddened all over.

"No," said she, at length; "I am not sorry. What can you think I am
made of; having loved one man ever since I was a little child until a
fortnight ago, and now just as ready to love another? I know you do not
rightly consider what you say, or I should take it as an insult."

"You loved an ideal man; he disappointed you, and you