"Wondering," observed Will, "what sort of chemical change has occurred within the last half-hour, or why life should go out of an organism when lead goes in." "That is a German picture, and here are we making a French picture—only that Grete is such a thorough Black Forester, with her bodice, and white sleeves, and head-dress." The Count was intensely flattered and pleased by her admiration of the impromptu pictures. He had been striving hard to interest and amuse her—most of all had he tried to charm her with the delights which he held at his own command; and here were the very sunlight, and the colours of the forest, and the shape of deers’ necks aiding him! "You don’t see the like of that in England, do you?" he said, with his mouth full of cold chicken. "I hope, Miss Brunel, you and Mrs. Christmas will make your stay with us as long as ever you can." "I should be very glad," she said; "but I must see what Lady Jane says in a day or two—whether she finds herself getting better. If she should prefer the cooler air of mountain scenery, we may go on to Switzerland." "But don’t you dread the idea of travelling alone—looking after your own luggage, and what not?" asked the Count, with his mouth this time full of some other animal’s tongue. "It was not entirely on a pleasure excursion we came," she said, quietly. "And then," said Will, "you can get plenty of cool mountain air in the Black Forest. You can go and live comfortably on the top of the Feldberg, about 5000 feet high, with a dozen mountains all round you over 4000 feet. In the meantime, don’t trouble yourself with thoughts of change; but let me give you some of this jelly. You are very fond of sweets, I know." "I am. You have been watching me." He had been watching her too much, he thought. The intense curiosity with which he had regarded the singular change in the girl’s nature so soon as she left the stage, with the study of her pretty superficial carelessness, her frank audacious manner, and her quaint, maternal, matter-of-fact attitude towards himself, had wrought its inevitable work; and at the very moment when she was thinking that Mr. Anerley took a friendly pleasure in her society, he was longing to get away from it as from a torture too heavy to be borne—longing to get away, and unable to go. He might easily have avoided her on this very day, for example, by pleading business occupations; instead, he had looked with impatience for her arrival all the morning and forenoon.