rtest notice.'

'Who is Gertrud? Another dear little cousin? If it be so, lead me, I
pray thee, at once to Gertrud.'

I laughed, and explaining Gertrud to him helped him pack his pocket
again. Then we started for the hotel full of hope, each thinking that if
Charlotte were not already there she would very soon turn up.

But Charlotte was not there, nor did she, though we loitered over our
coffee till we ended by being as late as the latest tourist, turn up.
'She is certain to come during the day,' said the Professor.

I told him I had arranged to go to Glowe that day, a little place
farther along the coast; and he said he would, in that case, engage my
vacant pavilion-bedroom for himself and stay that night at
Stubbenkammer. 'She is certain to come here,' he repeated; 'and I will
not lose her a second time.'

'You won't like the pavilion,' I remarked.

About eleven, there being still no signs of Charlotte, I set out on foot
on the first stage of my journey to Glowe, sending the carriage round by
road to meet me at Lohme, the place where I meant to stop for lunch, and
going myself along the footpath down on the shore. The Professor, who
was a great walker and extraordinarily active for his years, came with
me part of the way. He intended, he said, to go into Sassnitz that
afternoon if Charlotte did not appear before then and make inquiries,
and meanwhile he would walk a little with me; so we started very gaily
down the same zigzag path up which I had crawled dripping a few hours
before. At the bottom of the ravine the shore-path from Stubbenkammer to
Lohme begins. It is a continuation of the lovely path from Sassnitz,
but, less steep, it keeps closer to the beach. It is a white chalk path
running along the foot of cliffs clothed with moss and every kind of
wild-flower and fern. Masses of the leaves of lilies of the valley show
what it must look like in May, and on the day we walked there the space
between the twisted beech trunks--twisted into the strangest contortions
under the lash of winter storms--was blue with wild campanula.

What a walk that was. The sea lay close to our feet in great green and
blue streaks; the leaves of the beeches on our left seemed carved in
gold, they shone so motionless against the sky; and the Professor was so
gay, so certain that he was going to find Charlotte, that he almost
danced instead of walking. He talked to me, there is no doubt, as he
might have talked to quite a little chi