As Annette Veilchen spoke, all the fire of her mountain courage flashed from her eyes, and she listened reluctantly while Anne of Geierstein endeavoured to obliterate the dangerous impression which her former words had impressed on her simple but faithful attendant. "On my word"--she said,--"on my soul--you do Arthur Philipson injustice--foul injustice, in intimating such a suspicion;--his conduct towards me has ever been upright and honourable--a friend to a friend--a brother to a sister--could not, in all he has done and said, have been more respectful, more anxiously affectionate, more undeviatingly candid. In our frequent interviews and intercourse he has indeed seemed very kind--very attached. But had I been disposed--at times I may have been too much so--to listen to him with endurance,"--the young lady here put her hand on her forehead, but the tears streamed through her slender fingers,--"he has never spoken of any love--any preference;--if he indeed entertains any, some obstacle, insurmountable on his part, has interfered to prevent him." "Obstacle?" replied the Swiss damsel. "Ay, doubtless--some childish bashfulness--some foolish idea about your birth being so high above his own--some dream of modesty pushed to extremity, which considers as impenetrable the ice of a spring frost. This delusion may be broken by a moment's encouragement, and I will take the task on myself, to spare your blushes, my dearest Anne." "No, no; for Heaven's sake, no, Veilchen!" answered the Baroness, to whom Annette had so long been a companion and confidant, rather than a domestic. "You cannot anticipate the nature of the obstacles which may prevent his thinking on what you are so desirous to promote. Hear me--My early education, and the instructions of my kind uncle, have taught me to know something more of foreigners and their fashions than I ever could have learned in our happy retirement of Geierstein; I am well-nigh convinced that these Philipsons are of rank, as they are of manners and bearing, far superior to the occupation which they appear to hold. The father is a man of deep observation, of high thought and pretension, and lavish of gifts, far beyond what consists with the utmost liberality of a trader." "That is true," said Annette. "I will say for myself, that the silver chain he gave me weighs against ten silver crowns, and the cross which Arthur added to it, the day after the long ride we had together up towards Mount Pilatus, is worth, they tell me, as much more. There is not the like of it in the Cantons. Well, what then? They are rich, so are you. So much the better."