anything but the expression of his lively anxiety about an
orphaned child, as excessive chivalry, as a justified irritation at her
energetic opposition; but if she had only first spoken----

"Ah, me! My old head showed me no outlet. What should I do, with whom
speak? Neither of them could judge of the matter as it lay now; the only
remaining way was to appeal to Susanna's maidenly pride. But dared I?
Had I the right to contrive an intrigue behind Klaus's back? For,
although I meant well, still it was an intrigue. And suppose that I did
tread this by-way, what certainty was there that it would lead to the
goal? And how, after all, should I tread it?

"Susanna's illness was violent but brief. The delirium had ceased by the
next day, but she lay very feeble for a week after, without speaking or
showing interest in anything. But her great eyes continually followed
Anna Maria, as she moved noiselessly about the sick-room. Anna Maria's
manner toward Susanna was altered; there was a certain gentleness and
tenderness about her that became her wonderfully well. Whether it was
sympathy with the invalid, or whether she wanted to show the girl whom
she had wished to send away from the shelter of her home that she
cherished no ill-will toward her, I do not know; at any rate, she took
care of her like a loving mother.

"After about a week Susanna raised her head, begged to have the windows
opened, and showed an appetite; and when the doctor came he found her
sitting up in bed, eating with excellent appetite the prescribed
convalescent's dish, a broth of young pigeons.

"'Bravo!' cried the gay little man, 'keep on so! A small glass of
Bordeaux, too, would do no harm.'

"'And to-morrow I shall get up!' cried Susanna.

"'Not to-morrow; and day after to-morrow I shall inspect you again
before you do it,' answered the doctor.

"Susanna laughed, and then, with the pleasant feeling of returning
health, lay back on the pillows, took a hundred-leaved rose from the
bunch of flowers which Klaus sent daily through Anna Maria, to be placed
by the sick-bed, and asked--what! did I hear aright? Horrified, I turned
my head away and looked for Anna Maria; fortunately, she had gone out
with the doctor--and asked: 'Has Klaus--Herr von Hegewitz--ever inquired
for me?' And as she spoke her dark eyes flashed beneath the long lashes.

"'Oh, yes, Susanna, but he is very much occupied with the harvesting
now,' I said deceitfully, 'and he knows you are