engagement. Come to-morrow at this
hour. I'll leave word this time," she added with a smile. "Mr.
Stanton is so particular about callers that no one can get near me
without being personally guaranteed by Joles or Mr. Ditson."

"You haven't seen Mr. Ditson, have you? He is father's secretary. I
don't like him, and I'm so sorry. I can't bear not to like any one,"
and she sighed.

Von Barwig was looking at her again; in spite of himself he could not
keep his eyes from her.

"Of what were you thinking when you looked at me in that way?" she
asked, with a curious smile.

"I--I--don't know," said Von Barwig, rather startled, and this was
literally true.

"You're thinking that I am a great rattle-box, aren't you? Now,
confess! I am talking a great deal, am I not? But I can't seem to
help it! I'm not always like this; indeed I'm not," she said
earnestly. "It's a positive luxury to utter the first thought that
comes into one's mind--a luxury I seldom get, I can tell you! Somehow
or other you drew me out, and I allowed myself to ramble on and on
without in the least knowing why. Can you explain it?" she asked
laughingly.

He shook his head. "Perhaps you feel that I am interested in you, if
you will pardon the liberty I take in saying so."

"Very likely," she said thoughtfully. There was a long pause, for they
were so occupied with their own thoughts that neither spoke. The
reaction had set in, and she was now strangely quiet; indeed she hardly
spoke again that afternoon. After a while Von Barwig rose to take his
leave.

"Have I offended her?" he asked himself, as he left the house. "How
dare I tell her that I am interested in her! What impertinence, what a
liberty! Who am I that I should dare to say such a thing! You old
fool!" he now addressed himself directly. "You have happiness well
within your grasp, and instead of gently taking it to yourself you grab
it with both hands and pluck it up by the roots. You have offended her
and she won't see you again. You'll see, you won't be admitted to the
house!" The old man almost cried as he thought of his temerity, his
folly, his stupidity. He walked faster and faster in his excitement.
"I must curb my unfortunate tongue; I must, I will, if I ever get
another chance!" He sighed deeply. "And yet--why should she press my
hand and ask me to come to-morrow and be sure not to forget the hour?
She has forgiven me, yes, yes, she likes me; I know she does