of red and gold.

The half-hour's journey over--it was made in a narrow wooden
compartment, crowded with peasants returning from a market--they left
the train, and began to climb the hill. But, by now, Louise was at the
end of her strength, and Maurice began to fear that he would never get
her home; she could with difficulty drag one foot after the other, and
had to rest every few minutes, so that it was nearly ten o'clock before
they entered the house. In her room, he knelt before her and took off
her boots; Amalie carried her supper up on a tray. She hardly touched
it: her eyes were closing with fatigue, and she was asleep as soon as
her head touched the pillow.

Next day she did not waken till nearly noon, and she remained in bed
till after dinner. For the rest of the day, she sat in the armchair.
Maurice wished to read to her, but she preferred quiet--did not even
want to be talked to. The weather was on her nerves, she said--for it
had grown very sultry, and the sky was overcast. The landlord
prophesied a thunderstorm. In the evening, however, as it was still
dry, and he had been in the house all day, Maurice went out for a
solitary walk.

He swung down the road at a pace he could only make when he was alone.
It had looked threatening when he left the house, but, as he went, the
clouds piled themselves up with inconceivable rapidity, and before he
was three miles out on the plain, the storm broke, with a sudden fury
from which there was no escape. He took to his heels, and ran to the
next village, some quarter of a mile in front of him. There, in the
smoky room of a tiny inn, together with a handful of country-people, he
was held a prisoner for over two hours; the rain pelted, and the
thunder cracked immediately overhead. When, drenched to the skin, he
reached the top of the hill again, it was going on for midnight. He had
been absent for close on four hours.

The candle in her room was guttering in its socket. By its failing
light, he saw that she was lying across the bed, still dressed. Over
her bent Amalie.

He had visions of sudden illness, and brushed the girl aside.

"What is it? What's the matter?"

At his voice, Louise lifted a wild face, stared at him as though she
did not recognise him, then rose with a cry, and flung herself upon him.

"Take care! I'm wet through."

For all answer, she burst out crying, and trembled from head to foot.

"What is it, darling? Were you afraid?"

But she only c