lf an
hour?' he asked.

"'If our sad society is not too tiresome for you, Stuermer,' replied Anna
Maria. 'You give us a pleasure.' Then she suddenly turned and went out
of the room.

"'Now tell me, for Heaven's sake, Aunt Rosamond,' asked Stuermer, 'what
is the matter now? Why do we sit here, and where is Frau von Hegewitz?
Have the two fallen out again, perhaps?'

"'Susanna? Ah! you may not know yet, to be sure,' I replied. 'Susanna
went away to Nice three days ago; she had a cough, and feared the
winter.'

"He sprang up impulsively, and began to walk up and down the room; then
he stood before the cradle, and looked at the slumbering child. 'And
this young Frau has gone _alone_?' he asked at length.

"'No, Edwin, with Isa.'

"'Of course,' he said. He began his walking to and fro again, till Anna
Maria came in, followed by the child's nurse, who carried the little
sleeper into the next room. Then we sat silent about the table. It was
almost as in the old days, with the old furniture from the sitting-room,
and ticking of the clock under the mirror. Anna Maria had brought out
her spinning-wheel, and Edwin Stuermer looked at the floor, and, lost in
thought, played with a tassel of the table-cloth.

"Then all at once he started up; the clear sound of children's voices
came in from the hall:

"'Martins, martins, pretty things,
With your little golden wings,'

echoed the old Martinmas ditty.

"'To-day is Martinmas,' said I. Edwin Stuermer looked at me. It was a
strange look; what did he mean? And all at once Anna Maria--the proud,
heartless Anna Maria--threw her hands over her face, and bitterly
weeping, went out.

"'What is that, Edwin?' I asked; and, as he did not answer, I tapped him
on the shoulder with my wooden knitting-needle. And the strong man rose
too, stood at the window, and looked out without replying a word.

"'Little summer, little summer, rose-leaf,
Village and city,
Give us something, O maiden fair!'

died away the old song."

CHAPTER XX.

"The winter passed quietly away, and with the spring, just as the trees
were blossoming, Susanna came back. Anna Maria had sent the best
carriage to meet the home-comer, and put a little white dress on the
child. The table was set in a festal manner in the dining-room, and at
Susanna's place was a bunch of splendid white roses. I went to the front
steps to meet the young wife. Stuermer, who happened to have come over,
remai