Then she raised her eyes to Friedrich's, and Sydney was surprised to see a look of anger sweep over her childish face. Seeking its cause she found von Rittenheim's eyes fixed on herself, so full of love and longing and sadness that her one wish was to comfort him. Involuntarily she took a step towards him, and held out her hands. Then she remembered herself, and swept him a low courtesy, as if in thanks for the admiration of his gaze. "You like my frock, M. le Baron?" she asked. Von Rittenheim's eyes went to the fluffy white mass lying on the floor, and rose again to her face. "He's speechless with rapture, Sydney," said John. "I am, indeed," said Friedrich, bowing with his hand on his heart. "Then come on, Sydney, and let language flow once more." And Tom dexterously threw her cape over her shoulders. "See that? I've learned to do that really well since I was married. I've been practising in private. Mrs. Schuyler, allow me." And he repeated his performance and swept his flock before him to the door. XX Sacrifice "I know that you two have much to say to each other," said Mrs. Carroll, when the noise of departing wheels had died away. "Ring the bell, Baron, please, and tell James to light the lamp in the little sitting-room. And in considering your plans, let me beg both of you to remember that it will be a pleasure to us all if the Baroness will stay at Oakwood as long as she wishes." Hilda ran to the elder woman in her childish, impulsive way, and thanked her with many little German phrases of gratitude. Von Rittenheim raised her hand to his lips and murmured,-- "You make my decision easier, dear lady." In the little sitting-room Hilda established herself in a huge arm-chair, whose high back cast a shadow on her face, and Friedrich, at the window, drew in great breaths of sweet summer air. He turned to her when Uncle Jimmy had gone. "First tell me about Max." "Yes, I must tell you about Max. I am afraid it will be an added grief to you to know that Max----" "What is it?" he asked, sharply and apprehensively, as she hesitated. How familiar to him was that feeling of apprehension about his brother. Hilda was sitting erect in the big chair, looking at him fixedly. "Max--shot himself." "My God! Shot himself! Poor girl!" The expression on Hilda's face changed to one of relief--almost of joy. After all, his first thought had been for her. "Why did he--how did it happen?" "He had had troubles----" "Money?" She nodded. "I think they distressed him more than usual. And he was--he wasn't quite himself."