“Dear Nell, and that was why I found you so pale and cold and quiet, sitting by me when I woke, guarding me faithfully as you promised you would. How brave and kind you were!” “Villain! I should much like to fire your own pistols at you for this prank of yours.” And Casimer laughingly filliped the image on its absurdly aquiline nose. “What in the name of common sense is this goblin here for?” demanded the major, testily. “There is a legend that once the owner of the chateau amused himself by decoying travellers here, putting them to sleep in that room, and by various devices alluring them thither. Here, one step beyond the threshold of the door, was a trap, down which the unfortunates were precipitated to the dungeon at the bottom of the tower, there to die and be cast into the lake through a water-gate, still to be seen. Severin keeps this flattering likeness of the rascal, as he does the monk above, to amuse visitors by daylight, not at night, mademoiselle.” And Hoffman looked wrathfully at the image, as if he would much enjoy sending it down the trap. “How ridiculous! I shall not go about this place alone, for fear of lighting upon some horror of this sort. I’ve had enough; come away into the garden; it’s full of roses, and we may have as many as we like.” As she spoke Amy involuntarily put out her hand for Casimer to lead her down the steep stone steps, and he pressed the little hand with a tender look which caused it to be hastily withdrawn. “Here are your roses. Pretty flower; I know its meaning in English, for it is the same with us. To give a bud to a lady is to confess the beginning of love, a half open one tells of its growth, and a full-blown one is to declare one’s passion. Do you have that custom in your land, mademoiselle?” He had gathered the three as he spoke, and held the bud separately while looking at his companion wistfully. “No, we are not poetical, like your people, but it is a pretty fancy,” and Amy settled her bouquet with an absorbed expression, though inwardly wondering what he would do with his flowers. He stood silent a moment, with a sudden flush sweeping across his face, then flung all three into the lake with a gesture that made the girl start, and muttered between his teeth. “No, no: for me it is too late.” She affected not to hear, but making up a second bouquet, she gave it to him, with no touch of coquetry in compassionate eyes or gentle voice. “Make your room bright with these. When one is ill nothing is so cheering as the sight of flowers.” Meantime the others had descended and gone their separate ways. As Karl crossed the courtyard a little child ran to meet him with outstretched arms and a shout of satisfaction. He caught it up and carried it away on his shoulder, like one used to caress and be caressed by children. Helen, waiting at the door of the tower while the major dusted his coat, saw this, and said, suddenly, directing his attention to man and child,—