them. For a moment or
two she had hoped that her movement would waken Ludovic, so that she
might have had the comfort of a word; but he had only tumbled with
his head hither and thither, and had finally settled himself in a
position in which he leaned heavily upon her. She thought that he
was heartless to sleep while she was suffering; but she forgot that
he had watched at the window while she had slumbered upon the sacks
in the warehouse. At length, however, she could bear his weight no
longer, and she was forced to rouse him. "You are so heavy," she
said; "I cannot bear it;" when at last she succeeded in inducing him
to sit upright.

"Dear me! oh, ah, yes. How cold it is! I think I have been asleep."

"The cold is killing me," she said.

"My poor darling! What shall I do? Let me see. Where do you feel it
most."

"All over. Do you not feel how I shiver? Oh, Ludovic, could we get
out at the next station?"

"Impossible, Linda. What should we do there?"

"And what shall we do at Augsburg? Oh dear, I wish I had not come.
I am so cold. It is killing me." Then she burst out into floods of
sobbing, so that the old man opposite to her was aroused. The old man
had brandy in his basket and made her drink a little. Then after a
while she was quieted, and was taken by station after station without
demanding of Ludovic that he should bring this weary journey to an
end.

Gradually the day dawned, and the two could look at each other in the
grey light of the morning. But Linda thought of her own appearance
rather than that of her lover. She had been taught that it was
required of a woman that she should be neat, and she felt now that
she was dirty, foul inside and out,--a thing to be scorned. As their
companions also bestirred themselves in the daylight, she was afraid
to meet their eyes, and strove to conceal her face. The sacks in
the warehouse had, in lieu of a better bed, been acceptable; but
she was aware now, as she could see the skirts of her own dress and
her shoes, and as she glanced her eyes gradually round upon her
shoulders, that the stains of the place were upon her, and she knew
herself to be unclean. That sense of killing cold had passed off from
her, having grown to a numbness which did not amount to present pain,
though it would hardly leave her without some return of the agony;
but the misery of her disreputable appearance was almost as bad to
her as the cold had been. It was not only that she was untidy