"'It is a lie!' I said to myself: 'he promised to come back to me.' And then I said again, 'Why should I be angry? why should I believe him? I hardly knew him, and most men are false.' I was such a silly girl, I thought. Then father was always speaking of the baron: I could see that he was sorry I had not accepted him at once. And Aunt Jane, she had to talk to me about it, and say that she couldn't last long, and that father was getting old, and that I ought to think about getting married, and--Well, you know how women talk to each other about marrying. Considering that Aunt Jane had never thought of marrying herself, it oughtn't to have had much weight with me, but it did. "The year wore on. Of course I thought a great deal about Arthur, but I thought a good deal about the baron too. The little bird was no longer lonesome; and as she and her mate had built themselves a nest, and had domestic duties to perform in rearing a brood of young ones, they were too much wrapped up in their own affairs to be very companionable. But when autumn came again, and the leaves were falling and the cold winds blew out of the north, that foolish little mate flew off to the south, and the little forsaken thing came back into the conservatory and wanted to be comforted. And we did comfort her as best we could. All the winter through she was in and out from the conservatory to the dining-room, becoming very friendly and answering to her name instantly: papa had named her Niobe. "In due course of time the early spring came round again, and one April morning there came a letter from the baron. He asked me for my answer: should he come and take me with him to his German home? I showed the letter to papa, and all he said was, 'My daughter, he would make you an excellent husband--such a one as your poor mother would wish for you were she alive. I hope you'll consider the matter well before you say No.' "I thought it all over. Why not? Yes, I would write to the baron and say Yes. Arthur was away; he'd never come back; he was in love with that pretty blond. Was it likely I was going to ruin my life for him? I had too much sense for that. I would just go and throw his old glove into the fire and all thoughts of him to the winds. So I went for the glove, and kissed it--foolish thing!--and put it back in my treasure-box, and went on thinking of Arthur more than ever. Then I remonstrated with myself for my foolishness, and took my writing-desk in my lap and sat down in the conservatory to write to the baron. I began my letter 'My dear Arthur,' and then had to begin again, and started fairly with 'My dear baron.' Then I tried to frame a proper sentence to start with, but that desolate little bird came flying to my shoulder, and chirped so sadly and so persistently that it put me all out. "'Oh, you poor foolish little thing!' I said: 'anybody would think there were no other birds in the world but your faithless mate.'