Oswald made no attempt to renew the conversation, and Hedwig, for her part, showed but little inclination to pursue it. After a while, however, the silence became oppressive to her, and she ventured the first remark that suggested itself. 'What a miserable April! Anyone would think we were in cold, foggy autumn, with winter closing in upon us. We are to be cheated this year of all our spring delights.' 'Are you so fond of spring?' asked Oswald. 'I should like to know who is not fond of it? When one is young, flowers and sunshine seem necessary as the air we breathe. One cannot do without them. But perhaps you are of a different opinion.' 'It all depends. Flowers and sunshine do not come with every spring; nor are they given to everyone in their youth.' 'Were they not given to you?' 'No.' The negative was very harsh and decided. Hedwig glanced up at the speaker; it occurred to her, perhaps, that he was austere and undelightful as the spring day which excited her displeasure. What a contrast was there between this conversation and the sparkling, playful babble in which the young engaged pair had so recently indulged here, on the self-same spot! Even the 'plan of campaign' to be undertaken against their parents had been sketched out in a spirit of drollery, amid endless pleasantries, and any lurking anxiety as to the issue had been chased away by jests and laughter. But now, with Oswald von Ettersberg standing before her in his cold unyielding attitude, not only all the merriment, but all desire for it, had vanished as by enchantment. This solemn strain of talk seemed to come as a matter of course, and the young girl even experienced a certain attraction in it and desire to pursue it. 'You lost your parents early? Edmund has told me so; but at Ettersberg you found a second home and a second mother.' The stern, aggressive look, which for a while had disappeared, showed itself again in the young man's face, and his lips twitched almost imperceptibly. 'You mean my aunt, the Countess?' 'Yes. Has she not been a mother to you?' Again there came that slight spasmodic working about the corners of the mouth, which was anything rather than a smile, but his voice was perfectly calm, as he replied: 'Oh, certainly. Still, there is a difference between being the only child of the house--beloved as you and Edmund have been--and a stranger admitted by favour.' 'Edmund looks on you exactly as a brother,' interrupted the young girl. 'It is a great grief to him that you are meaning to leave him so soon.' 'Edmund appears to have been very communicative with regard to me,' said Oswald coldly. 'So he has told you of that already, has he?' Hedwig flushed a little at this remark. 'It is natural, I think, that he should make me acquainted with the affairs of the family I am likely to enter. He mentioned this fact to me, lamenting that all his efforts to induce you to remain at Ettersberg had failed.'