ore the door early one morning, when the two large trunks as
well as the small luggage had been put on the top of it, when he held
out his hand to help her in and then took a seat beside her, she could
not refrain from saying: "Oh, if only you were going with me. I don't
like travelling alone."

"If only you had said so a little earlier." He felt quite perturbed;
he was exceedingly sorry. "How easily I could have taken you there the
one day, seen you settled there and come back the next."

Oh, he did not understand what she meant by "if only you were going
with me." Stay with her there as well--that was what she had meant.

Her sorrowful eyes sought the upstairs window behind which Woelfchen
was sleeping. She had had to say goodbye to him the evening before, as
she was leaving so early. She had only stood at his bedside with a mute
good-bye that morning, and her gloved hand had passed cautiously over
his head, that rested so heavily on the pillow, so as not to waken him.
Oh, how she would have liked to have said some loving words to him
now.

"Give my love to the boy, give my love to the boy," she said
quickly, hastily, several times after each other, to the cook and
Friedrich, who were standing near the carriage. "And take good care of
him. Do you hear? Give my love to the boy, give my love to the boy."
She could not say anything more or think of anything more. "Give my
love to----"

Then the upstairs window rattled. Stretching both her arms out she
rose half out of her seat.

The boy put his head out. His cheeks, that were hot with sleep,
showed ruddy above his white night-shirt.

"Good-bye, good-bye. Come back well. And be sure to write to
me."

He called it out in a very contented voice and nodded down to her;
and she saw Cilia's round, healthy, white and red face behind his and
heard her friendly laugh.

CHAPTER X

Kate did not know herself how she got over those weeks in which she was
separated from her home. It was not so bad as she had imagined. She
felt that a greater tranquillity had come over her, a tranquillity she
never could feel at home; and this feeling of tranquillity did her
good. She wrote quite contented letters, and her husband's bright
accounts of "magnificent mountains" and "magnificent weather" delighted
her. She also heard good news from Dr. Hofmann, who used to send her
his reports most faithfully, as he had promised.

"The boy is in the best of health," he wrote, "you ne