She rallied, however, quickly, and went on. “We now know that the timber is not worth one-fourth of this large sum. Baron Elias himself has seen it, and declares that we have been duped or--worse. He insists that we rescind the contract, or accept all its consequences. The one is hopeless,--the other ruin. Meanwhile, the Baron suspends farther relations with us, and heavy acceptances of ours will soon press for payment. I must not go into this,” said she, hurriedly. “You are very young to charge with such a mission; but I have great faith in your loyalty. You will not wrong our trust?” “That I will not.” “You will go to Graf Hunyadi, and speak with him. If he be--as many of his countrymen are--a man of high and generous feeling, he will not bring ruin upon us, when our only alternative would be to denounce our own. You are very young; but you have habits of the world and society. Nay,--I am not seeking to learn a secret; but you know enough to make you companionable and acceptable, where any others in our employ would be inadmissible. At all events, you will soon see the sort of man we have to deal with, and you will report to me at once.” “I am not to tell him how this signature has been obtained?” asked I, awaiting the reply. “That would be to denounce the contract at once,” cried she, as though this thought had for the first time struck her. “You know the penalty of a forgery here. It is the galleys for life. He must be saved at all events. Don't you see,” cried she, eagerly, “I can give you no instructions. I have none to give. When I say I trust you,--I have told you all.” “Has Herr Ignaz not said how he would wish me to act?” “My father knows nothing of it all! Nothing. You have seen him, and you know how little he is able now to cope with a difficulty. The very sense that his faculties are not what they were overcomes him, even to tears.” Up to this she had spoken with a calm firmness that had lent a touch of almost sternness to her manner, but at the mention of her poor father's condition, her courage gave way, and she turned away and hid her face, but her convulsed shoulders showed how her emotion was overcoming her. I went towards her, and took her hand in both my own. She left it to me while I kissed it again and again. “Oh, Sara,” I whispered rather than spoke, “if you knew how devoted I am to you, if you knew how willingly I would give my very life for you, you would not think yourself friendless at this hour. Your trust in me has made me forget how lonely I am, and how humble,--to forget all that separates us, even to telling that I love you. Give me one word--only one--of hope; or if not that, let your dear hand but close on mine, and I am yours forever.” She never spoke, however, and her cold fingers returned no pressure to mine. “I love you; I love you!” I muttered, as I covered her hand with kisses. “There! Do you not hear?” cried she, suddenly. “My father is calling me.”