ear from now I shall ask you
the same question again, and then you must say Yes or No; and God grant
it may be the first!'

"'You are very good,' I said; 'and a year hence I will tell you if I can
be your wife or not.'

"So the baron went away, and he had hardly been gone a week when I was
ashamed of having been so much affected by the bird's return. The idea
of believing in omens! Then a little time further on there came a letter
from a friend of mine in Leipsic which mentioned Arthur Sterling, spoke
of him as a young man very popular in society--you know Arthur is most
fascinating--and said that he was very attentive to a young American
girl there, a beautiful blond: they were seen everywhere together, and
report said he was to marry her.

"'It is a lie!' I said to myself: 'he promised to come back to me.' And
then I said again, 'Why should I be angry? why should I believe him? I
hardly knew him, and most men are false.' I was such a silly girl, I
thought. Then father was always speaking of the baron: I could see that
he was sorry I had not accepted him at once. And Aunt Jane, she had to
talk to me about it, and say that she couldn't last long, and that
father was getting old, and that I ought to think about getting married,
and--Well, you know how women talk to each other about marrying.
Considering that Aunt Jane had never thought of marrying herself, it
oughtn't to have had much weight with me, but it did.

"The year wore on. Of course I thought a great deal about Arthur, but I
thought a good deal about the baron too. The little bird was no longer
lonesome; and as she and her mate had built themselves a nest, and had
domestic duties to perform in rearing a brood of young ones, they were
too much wrapped up in their own affairs to be very companionable. But
when autumn came again, and the leaves were falling and the cold winds
blew out of the north, that foolish little mate flew off to the south,
and the little forsaken thing came back into the conservatory and wanted
to be comforted. And we did comfort her as best we could. All the winter
through she was in and out from the conservatory to the dining-room,
becoming very friendly and answering to her name instantly: papa had
named her Niobe.

"In due course of time the early spring came round again, and one April
morning there came a letter from the baron. He asked me for my answer:
should he come and take me with him to his German home? I showed the
letter to