Irma was exceedingly kind to her sister-in-law, and Bruno heartily thanked her. And yet Irma's mind was not at ease. The house seemed under the influence of a peculiar spell--it was just as if in fairy-land. People would go about, and laugh and joke and sing and play, but there was one word they dared not utter; for, at the very mention of it, the castle, with all its pomp and splendor, would disappear. And that word was: "father." But it was here that Irma was the more impelled to think of her father. When alone in her room, she began a letter to him, and when she wrote the words; "Dear Father," she looked about her. She regarded it as her duty, and thought herself better able than Bruno, to inform her father of the betrothal, and to invoke his forbearance for this unfortunate, though wealthy, girl. Never before had she made so many unsuccessful attempts to write a letter. She had begun again and again, and had always ended by tearing up the sheet and throwing it into the fire. She found it impossible to finish her letter, and at last concluded to wait until she returned to the summer palace. But she could not get rid a desire to speak of parents, and when Baum came to her with a message, she detained him with the question: "Baum, are your parents still living?" "No." "Did you know them long?" Baum coughed behind his raised hand and answered: "I never knew my father; and my mother--my mother was taken from me long ago." Baum, who still held his hand before his face, bit his lips and at last ventured to ask: "May I inquire, my lady, why you put that question to me?" "I desire to acquaint myself with the life and history of those whom I know personally." Baum dropped his hand and his face was as smooth and void of expression as before. The strictest decorum was observed during their stay at the castle. On one occasion, however, Irma felt offended, and that was when the old lady--they called her "Her Grace"--declared the relation of an affianced couple the silliest of all conventionalities--the most natural and proper course would be to have marriage follow immediately upon the betrothal--yes, in the very same hour. These remarks were accompanied by a peculiar change in the expression of the old lady's features. Irma was startled and did not get over her fright, for when, at parting, the baroness impressed a kiss upon her, Irma could not help shuddering. Irma had been in the carriage for some time, when Bruno at last came, and again stopped to throw a kiss to his betrothed, who was standing at the window. They drove off, and when Irma found herself alone with her brother she said, in a loud voice and with a strange expression: "Oh, father! father!" She drew a long and deep breath, as if relieved from some dread spell. "What ails you?" said Bruno. Irma did not care to tell him what she felt, and merely replied: