In these few days she began to wonder if she were not rapidly growing old: it seemed to her that everything around her was becoming so serious and so sad. "And if I do look old, who will care?" she said to herself, bitterly. The Count, on the other hand, fancied she had never been so beautiful; and, as he looked on her, he tried to gladden his heart by the thought that he was not a mercenary man. To prove to her and himself that he was not, he swore a mental oath that he would be rejoiced to see her a beggar, that so he might lift her up to his high estate. Indeed, so mad was the man at the time—so much beside himself was he—that he was ready to forswear the only aim of his life, and would have married Annie Brunel only too willingly, had it been proved to him that she was the daughter of a gipsy. "Another day’s rest is all that the doctor has prescribed," said the Count. "I hope to see our friend down to breakfast to-morrow morning." "Is he so much better?" she asked. She inquired in so earnest a tone that he fancied her anxiety was to know if the damage she had done was nearly mended—and so he said: "Better? He is quite better now. I think he might come down and see us this morning, unless you would prefer paying him a visit." Immediately after breakfast Miss Brunel went over to the inn, and there she found Hans Halm and his daughter. "Grete," she said, "could you go to the Feldberg to-day?" "Yes," said Grete. "Could you be ready to start by twelve o’clock?" "My father’s _wagen_ has gone to Donaueschingen, mademoiselle," she said. "The Count will lend us a carriage, and you must come with me." The matter having been arranged, she returned to the Count, and told him of her intention, firmly and quietly. A week previous he would have laughed, and pooh-poohed the notion; now he was excessively courteous, and, though he regretted her decision, he would do everything in his power, &c. "Will you let Hermann come with us as far as the Feldberg?" "I devote Hermann entirely to your service for a week—a month—as long as you choose," said the Count. English Polly was got up from the kitchen—where she had established a species of freemasonry between herself and the German servants—to assist in the packing; and while she and Mrs. Christmas were so engaged, Annie Brunel sate down, and wrote these lines on a slip of paper: "_I am glad to hear you are letter. You wished us not to meet again, and as it is easier for me to go than you, I leave here in an hour. You will forgive me for having caused you so much pain. Good-bye._ _A.B._" She put the paper in an envelope, and took it down to the Count. "I have written a note to Mr. Anerley, explaining our going away so abruptly. Will you please send it to him?" "I will take it to him myself," said the Count, and he took it.