"Lo! as they lay there and chatted, these three, Swiftly the wild deer ran past the tree: And ere the three huntsmen had seen him aright, O’er hill and o’er valley he’d vanished from sight! (_All._) Husch, husch! bang, bang! trara! Husch, husch! bang, bang! trara!" "I declare," said little Mrs. Christmas, standing on tiptoe, to peep in at the window on the bronzed faces, and the dim candle, and the long narrow tables in the low-roofed room, "it is quite like a scene in a play, though they don’t sing very well." "They keep capital time," said the Count, who looked upon them as so many performing animals, belonging to himself. "Voulez-vous entrer, mademoiselle?" said Grete, hesitatingly. "La fumée—j’en suis bien fâchée——" She went into the inn, nevertheless; and Hans Halm was summoned to give his opinion about the various roads leading down to Basle or Schaff hausen. Meanwhile, the keepers had sent a polite message, through Margarethe, to the young English lady, hoping that she enjoyed the day’s sport; that her companion’s accident had not been serious; and that she would not be annoyed to hear one or two of the old Schwarzwald songs. It was now for the first time that Annie learned the true extent of the injury which Will had suffered; and this had the effect of immediately altering her resolutions. It was with a dangerous throb of the heart that she was told how he might not leave his bed for days, or even weeks, so prostrated was he by loss of blood; and anxious—terribly anxious, as she was to get free from the place, she could not bear the thought of stealing away, and leaving him to the unknown chances of the future. The Count had almost begun to fancy that it was the horror of the accident that she had caused which was driving her away from the too painful witnessing of its results; but she now said that she would not leave until Will was entirely out of danger. He could not understand her, or her motives; above all, he was puzzled by the unwonted earnestness of her expression—its new life and intensity. He knew nothing of the fire at the heart which kept that slumbering light in the dark eyes. "And in a few days, Grete, you go to the Feldberg?" she asked. "Yes, mademoiselle." "Is there an inn there at which one can stay?" "There is, mademoiselle—right on the top of the mountain, if you choose to go so high. My cousin Aenchen lives down in the valley." "I hope, Miss Brunel," said the Count, anxiously, "you won’t think of leaving Schönstein so long as you remain in this district. The accident which has happened, I know, may rob the neighbourhood of some of its attractions; but what better will the Feldberg be?" She paid no attention to him. She was only determined not to see Will Anerley again; and yet there was in her heart a vague desire to be near him—to be under the same daylight—to look on the same scenes, and hear the same quaint strange talk that he listened to.