elberg. They stood on the great
terrace of the Schloss-Garten, looking across the intervening ravine
to the north-east front of the castle which rose before them in all its
customary warm tints and battered magnificence.

'This is a spot, if any, which should bring matters to a crisis between
you and me,' he asserted good-humouredly. 'But you have been so silent
to-day that I lose the spirit to take advantage of my privilege.'

She inquired what privilege he spoke of, as if quite another subject had
been in her mind than De Stancy.

'The privilege of winning your heart if I can, which you gave me at
Carlsruhe.'

'O,' she said. 'Well, I've been thinking of that. But I do not feel
myself absolutely bound by the statement I made in that room; and I
shall expect, if I withdraw it, not to be called to account by you.'

De Stancy looked rather blank.

'If you recede from your promise you will doubtless have good reason.
But I must solemnly beg you, after raising my hopes, to keep as near as
you can to your word, so as not to throw me into utter despair.'

Paula dropped her glance into the Thier-Garten below them, where gay
promenaders were clambering up between the bushes and flowers. At length
she said, with evident embarrassment, but with much distinctness: 'I
deserve much more blame for what I have done than you can express to me.
I will confess to you the whole truth. All that I told you in the hotel
at Carlsruhe was said in a moment of pique at what had happened just
before you came in. It was supposed I was much involved with another
man, and circumstances made the supposition particularly objectionable.
To escape it I jumped at the alternative of yourself.'

'That's bad for me!' he murmured.

'If after this avowal you bind me to my words I shall say no more: I do
not wish to recede from them without your full permission.'

'What a caprice! But I release you unconditionally,' he said. 'And I beg
your pardon if I seemed to show too much assurance. Please put it down
to my gratified excitement. I entirely acquiesce in your wish. I will go
away to whatever place you please, and not come near you but by your own
permission, and till you are quite satisfied that my presence and what
it may lead to is not undesirable. I entirely give way before you, and
will endeavour to make my future devotedness, if ever we meet again, a
new ground for expecting your favour.'

Paula seemed struck by the generous and cheerful fai