if you ought to look right down into my heart, as they say God does; as if I ought to have no secret for you."--"But I do not want you to betray a secret"--"I won't betray anything, because Oswald has never said a word to me. I only know that he is so sad and silent since Aunt Berkow is gone. We were talking of it at dinner to-day, how long she would stay away, and whether she would marry again after Uncle Berkow's death, and I saw how Oswald turned pale, and did not raise his eyes from his plate during the whole conversation. And then, when Felix remarked that Baron Oldenburg might be able to answer that question, as he had gone to N. after Aunt Berkow, he suddenly raised his head, with an angry look, and opened his lips as if to say something; but he said nothing and bit his lips; and to-night he is sadly out of humor."--"And all that means----" --"All that means, simply, that Oswald is very fond of Aunt Berkow, and does not like her to be talked about; just as little as I like it when aunty and Felix talk of you."--"Ah, you do not know what you are talking about"--"Of course, that is always the refrain: I don't know what I am talking about! I am a foolish boy, hurrah! hurrah! I have no ears to hear, no eyes to see. Why? Because I am only sixteen, and my beard is not as long as it might be." How did Helen receive this news? Was she disappointed in her heart? Or did she find another explanation for the melancholy look in Oswald's blue eyes? Perhaps she would not have been able to explain it to herself, but at all events it did not diminish the interest she had felt for Oswald ever since that evening on the strand. She began to observe him more closely than heretofore; she watched every one of his words; she played and sang by preference the music he liked best, and when he appeared once more in the garden in the morning, she was rejoiced. She thanked him in her heart if he, who was so silent everywhere else, always had some kind word for her, and entered cheerfully upon every subject she suggested, sometimes seriously, sometimes jestingly, but always in the cordial manner of an elder brother. Did the charm of Oswald's personal appearance really begin to have an effect upon the proud girl, susceptible as she was for everything beautiful and noble? Was it jealousy, or was it simply a kind of opposition to the plans of her mother, which appeared daily more clearly, that made her take such an interest in a man whom her aristocratic eye would otherwise have carelessly overlooked? The most contrary sentiments contended in her heart, as often, on a deep blue summer sky, light gray clouds are drifting aimlessly about till the tempest breaks forth in its full power. CHAPTER VIII.