ster, who was sitting near
him with such a pale face and such hollow eyes.

"Drink, friend, drink," said Mr. Tiralla, as he seized his glass and
finished it in one gulp. "Pooh!" He made a gesture of distaste. It did
not taste at all nice--or did it taste nice? "No, no!" He raised his
fist and struck the glass so hard that it broke into pieces. There,
that did him good. Now _that_ enemy could not harm him again.

"Ha, ha!" He chuckled to himself again, and did not notice that the
blood was trickling down his finger. "Why are you so quiet, little
Boehnke?"

No answer. But the wind moaned round the house and rushed down the
chimney screeching, "Oo-hoo, oo-hoo," like an owl.

The man had been accustomed all his life to this [Pg 295] wintry music
round Starydwor, but now it terrified him. He attempted to make the
sign of the cross and glanced round timidly. The schoolmaster had gone,
he was alone, quite, quite alone.

"Who's there?" He started up in terror; he wanted to scream, but he
could only utter a few inarticulate sounds. Somebody had opened the
door. He blinked and tried to discover who the intruder was, but his
eyes had grown very dim. Somebody was coming in, but it was not little
Boehnke. Who else could be coming to see him? A man--a woman?

"You?" he shouted, seizing hold of the bottle so as to defend himself
with it. What did Sophia want? Was she coming to kill him now in the
night? He hurled the bottle and it broke into bits on the floor.

"It's I, father," said Rosa, and she knelt down and collected the
broken pieces of glass.

"Oh, it's you." He drew a long breath. Yes, now he could see it, it
might be Rosa. The lamplight fell on her curly, reddish hair, and he
bent a little forward as she knelt before him and took hold of it. "No,
it's not Sophia," he said with a sigh of relief. But he was still
suspicious. "What--what do you want?" he stammered.

She was glad to think that he at least recognized her. How unutterably
heavy her heart felt. She had knelt in her room until her knees had
ached, and had prayed and prayed. There had been no Marianna to groan
on account of her everlasting whispering and sighing, for the girl had
gone out. And when she had at last finished her prayers, she had sat
down on her bed with her hands folded and waited patiently until there
was not a sound downstairs. She wished to speak to her father quite
alone, without being disturbed by any one. And if he had already gone
to b