'I do not come voluntarily or in my own interest,' pursued Oswald. 'Tomorrow I shall leave again; I could not possibly divine that you would be here at Ettersberg just at this time, or ... or I would have spared us both this meeting.' Us both! Through all his bitterness there gleamed a ray of satisfaction. That unguarded exclamation of hers had changed a dim half-knowledge into a certainty, and though he could fasten on it no single hope, this certainty had in an instant become to him the one all-precious thing in life, a possession he would have surrendered at no price. During their farewell interview, the young man had valiantly maintained his self-control, but the joyful shock of this unexpected meeting threatened to unseal his lips. The long-hidden passion in his breast was fanned to a quick, sudden blaze. Hedwig read this in his eyes, and the imminent danger gave her back her self-command, which did not again desert her. 'We can, at all events, shorten this interview,' she said, speaking in a low, steady tone, and turned to go. But Oswald followed. 'Will you leave me suddenly in this way? May I not say a word to you--one word?' 'I fear we have already said too much. Let me go, Herr von Ettersberg. Let me go, I entreat of you.' Oswald obeyed. He stepped back to let her pass. She was right, he felt, and it was well that she should be strong and prudent when his prudence was on the verge of failing him. He looked after her silently, with an expression of infinite sadness, but he would no further detain her. Hardly had Hedwig disappeared in the direction of the Countess's apartments when Edmund came in from the other side. His cousin's arrival had been notified to him, but his face showed no joyful surprise. On the contrary, the young Count appeared disturbed, nay, agitated. As Oswald hastened towards him, and held out his hand with all the old friendly cordiality, he evaded taking it, and the welcome he expressed was strangely forced and formal. 'What a surprise, Oswald! I did not think you intended to pay Ettersberg a visit just now.' 'Am I unwelcome?' asked Oswald, astonished at and chilled by this unwonted reception, and his outstretched hand fell to his side as he spoke. 'No, certainly not!' cried Edmund hastily. 'Quite the contrary. I only meant that you might have sent me word previously.' 'It was I who had the right to expect a letter,' said Oswald, with some reproach in his tone. 'You only replied to my first by a few lines: of my second you took no notice at all. I could understand your silence as little as I now understand the manner of your welcome. Have you been ill, or has anything happened?' The young Count laughed--the loud derisive laugh which in these days was so frequent with him.' 'What an idea! You see I am as well as I can be. It was only that I had no time for writing.'