t was. It was known that the gracious young lady's father,
who would naturally have accompanied them, was sick, and in the fact
that they were Americans much extenuation was found for whatever was
phenomenal in their unencumbered enjoyment of each other's society.

If their free American association was indistinguishably like the
peasant informality which General Triscoe despised in the relations of
Kenby and Mrs. Adding, it is to be said in his excuse that he could not
be fully cognizant of it, in the circumstances, and so could do nothing
to prevent it. His pessimism extended to his health; from the first he
believed himself worse than the doctor thought him, and he would have
had some other physician if he had not found consolation in their
difference of opinion and the consequent contempt which he was enabled
to cherish for the doctor in view of the man's complete ignorance of the
case. In proof of his own better understanding of it, he remained in bed
some time after the doctor said he might get up.

Nearly ten days had passed before he left his room, and it was not till
then that he clearly saw how far affairs had gone with his daughter
and Burnamy, though even then his observance seemed to have anticipated
theirs. He found them in a quiet acceptance of the fortune which had
brought them together, so contented that they appeared to ask nothing
more of it. The divine patience and confidence of their youth might
sometimes have had almost the effect of indifference to a witness who
had seen its evolution from the moods of the first few days of their
reunion in Weimar. To General Triscoe, however, it looked like an
understanding which had been made without reference to his wishes, and
had not been directly brought to his knowledge.

"Agatha," he said, after due note of a gay contest between her and
Burnamy over the pleasure and privilege of ordering his supper sent to
his room when he had gone back to it from his first afternoon in the
open air, "how long is that young man going to stay in Weimar?"

"Why, I don't know!" she answered, startled from her work of beating the
sofa pillows into shape, and pausing with one of them in her hand. "I
never asked him." She looked down candidly into his face where he sat in
an easy-chair waiting for her arrangement of the sofa. "What makes you
ask?"

He answered with another question. "Does he know that we had thought of
staying here?"

"Why, we've always talked of that, hav