art,
when she was reminded of Klaus by some eccentricity of Susanna's. Then
she would look again in warm anxiety at the mercurial little creature,
and then run into her solitary room, and not appear again for several
hours.

"One day, just three weeks before the appointed wedding-day, I was
returning, toward evening, from a visit to my old friend, Mademoiselle
Gruene, at the parsonage. It was windy and wet and cold, a regular autumn
evening, such as I do not like at all. I drew my veil over my face for
protection, wrapped my cloak more tightly about me, and took the
shortest way across the church-yard and through the garden. The
manor-house looked gloomy behind the tall trees; not a window was
lighted, but from the great chimney the smoke blew away over the roofs,
like long, dark, funeral banners, and wrestled with the wind which
dissipated it in all directions.

"I began to think with pleasure of the comfortable sitting-room, of a
warm beer-soup, and the regular evening whist-table. Just as I was
passing a side-path, I saw a dark figure sitting under the linden. 'Anna
Maria!' I murmured, 'and in this storm!' For an instant I stood still,
with the intention of calling to her, for a fine, drizzling rain was now
falling, and I feared she would take cold on this dreary evening. But I
gave it up, because I thought, on reflection, she would not probably
want to be seen at all, or have an inquisitive look taken at a shyly
guarded secret, and I made haste to walk away down the path as quickly
as possible, to get away unobserved.

"But my foot stopped again; a horseman was coming along by the hedge,
and, in spite of the gray twilight, I recognized Stuermer; he waved his
hat in greeting over toward the arbor, and there some one beckoned--I
very nearly had palpitation of the heart from joyful fear--with a white
cloth, and this little signal waved in the misty evening air till he
disappeared behind the trees on the other side of the bridge.

"'Anna Maria! Is it possible?' said I, half-aloud, as I walked on--that
it sounded like a cry of exultation I could not help. Ah, all must be
well yet, and surely all would be well! I hurried up the steps to write
a few words to Klaus. 'Anna Maria and Edwin were nearer than he had
hoped'--how pleased he would be! But I did not accomplish that to-day.
Brockelmann came to meet me in the entrance-hall, and in spite of my
happy agitation, I had to listen to a long story, for which she even
ur