Her appearance was wild and distraught in the extreme. Her clothes were torn, her hair, which under the frequent use of the comb had begun to fall into such splendid glossy waves, once more hung over her forehead and cheeks in a shaggy, unkempt mass. Her eyes shone with feverish, almost uncanny lustre from dark-blue cavities, and she dared not raise them to his. "She is pining away," something cried in him. "She will die, because of you." He took hold of her hand and it lay limply in his palm. "Regina, do speak. Aren't you glad that I've come back?" She ducked her head, as she had been in the habit of doing when she instinctively expected blows instead of kind words. He stroked her rough, dry hair. "Poor thing!" he said. "You must have had a dreadfully dull time of it, with not a human soul to speak to----" She shrank from his touch and was still silent. "Why did you not write and tell me that you found it so terribly lonely?" She shook her head, and then said timidly, "It wasn't the loneliness." "What was it then?" She looked at him nervously and said nothing. "Well, what was it?" "I ... I thought ... you weren't coming back." "But, you foolish girl, didn't I write and say I was?" "Yes, you wrote and said, 'I am coming perhaps in about ten days,' and I went to the Cats' Bridge, and there I waited day and night-day and night--but you didn't come. And then three weeks afterwards you wrote again, 'I shall come home perhaps in about ten days.' And you never came, and then I thought you were only putting me off with promises ... so as not to break it to me suddenly that you weren't coming back at all. And I thought you repented being good to me, because I didn't deserve it, and because I----" She broke off and buried her face for a moment in her hands. "But your letter was so sensible." "Yes, _Herr_," she faltered. "Would it have done for _me_ to write differently?" He bit his lip, and stared before him into the lacework of the young green foliage. Did she suspect what would befall her in a few hours? "But now all is right again, isn't it?" he asked unsteadily. With a cry she sank on the ground, and clinging to his knees exclaimed, "Yes, oh yes, _Herr_. When you are here everything is right, everything is different. If you were to go away again, _Herr_, what should I do?" No, she suspected nothing. The heaviest, most crushing blow of all was in store for her. He felt as if there were a thunderbolt concealed in his sleeve, which the next time he stirred would descend and shatter her to fragments. But he had still time to dispose of as he pleased. A few hours to devote to this poor creature, in which to revive and make her happy again before signing her death-warrant, and in which she would unconsciously gather up strength for the ordeal. "Stand up, Regina," he said gently. "Let us enjoy ourselves, and not think of the future."