He could not but yield to the spell that lured him daily to the forest road, but he pledged his honour to himself that he would be nothing to Celia save a friend and brother, that he never would betray the childlike trust she reposed in him. Now first he felt what an absolute necessity for him the daily meeting with Celia had become,--now, as he walked on in the wind and rain, constantly repeating to himself that she certainly could not leave the house to-day. In spite of this repetition, a yearning desire for a sight of her spurred him on along the accustomed path. He never heeded that in pushing through the trees and bushes he had become fairly drenched with rain. He reached the broad castle road: the distant wing of the castle, a glimpse of which could be had from here in fine weather, was veiled in mist. Sadly he leaned against the trunk of a giant oak, conscious that until this moment he had cherished a hope that perhaps in spite of the rain Celia might take her afternoon ride; she was no city-bred fine lady, but a strong, healthy child of nature, who was not afraid of the rain. Now, however, as he looked forth into the comfortless, white, impenetrable fog, his last hope vanished. But what sound was that? Surely something like the distant neighing of a horse. And now--yes, there was no mistaking Pluto's loud neigh, close at hand, as a tall figure emerged from the fog, and the next moment Celia reined in her horse beside Kurt. "I thought so!" she cried, triumphantly. "I knew you would not mind the rain!" Then, as she looked at him, she burst into a merry laugh. "Good heavens! how you look, poor fellow! You could not be wetter if you had fallen into the lake!" Kurt laughed with her. How odd it was that the huge waterproof that she wore detracted not a whit from her beauty and grace! A gray waterproof can scarcely be called an elegant garment, but Celia looked lovely in this one. Her fresh rosy face smiled enchantingly from out of the hood that she had drawn over her head, and from beneath which tiny curls were rebelliously fluttering out into the wind and rain. "It certainly is a 'fine, soaking rain,' as my uncle says," Kurt rejoined, laughing. "It has drenched me, but I have many a time tramped through a wood in worse weather than this, and even slept soundly on a hill-side in just such a pour, with only a soldier's blanket over me. The rain can do me no harm, but you, Fraeulein von Hohenwald, are very wrong to come abroad in such weather." "And yet you expected me to do it." "No; I was sure you would prudently stay at home. It is no weather for you to ride in."