ered
the beer, so, when it came, he gave it to the soldiers."

Mrs. Decie turned her enigmatic smile from one girl to the other.

When dinner was over they went into her room. Greta stole at once to the
piano, where her long hair fell almost to the keys; silently she sat
there fingering the notes, smiling to herself, and looking at her aunt,
who was reading Pater's essays. Christian too had taken up a book, but
soon put it down--of several pages she had not understood a word. She
went into the garden and wandered about the lawn, clasping her hands
behind her head. The air was heavy; very distant thunder trembled among
the mountains, flashes of summer lightning played over the trees; and two
great moths were hovering about a rosebush. Christian watched their soft
uncertain rushes. Going to the little summer-house she flung herself
down on a seat, and pressed her hands to her heart.

There was a strange and sudden aching there. Was he going from her? If
so, what would be left? How little and how narrow seemed the outlook of
her life--with the world waiting for her, the world of beauty, effort,
self-sacrifice, fidelity! It was as though a flash of that summer
lightning had fled by, singeing her, taking from her all powers of
flight, burning off her wings, as off one of those pale hovering moths.
Tears started up, and trickled down her face. 'Blind!' she thought; 'how
could I have been so blind?'

Some one came down the path.

"Who's there?" she cried.

Harz stood in the doorway.

"Why did you come out?" he said. "Ah! why did you come out?" He caught
her hand; Christian tried to draw it from him, and to turn her eyes away,
but she could not. He flung himself down on his knees, and cried: "I
love you!"

In a rapture of soft terror Christian bent her forehead down to his hand.

"What are you doing?" she heard him say. "Is it possible that you love
me?" and she felt his kisses on her hair.

"My sweet! it will be so hard for you; you are so little, so little, and
so weak." Clasping his hand closer to her face, she murmured: "I don't
care."

There was a long, soft silence, that seemed to last for ever. Suddenly
she threw her arms round his neck and kissed him.

"Whatever comes!" she whispered, and gathering her dress, escaped from
him into the darkness.

XII

Christian woke next morning with a smile. In her attitudes, her voice,
her eyes, there was a happy and sweet seriousness, as if she we