"Suppose he offers you his hand and a count's coronet," he said, at the same moment feeling a sharp pang in his heart that almost stopped his breath. She did not seem to hear him, but shook her curls back from her face, so that her hair escaped from its confinement and rolled in luxuriant masses from beneath her hood. Then she threw back her little cloak as if suffocating. "Has it grown so hot?" she asked, "or is it only--but let's walk faster. I can scarcely wait till I'm at rest--and alone! No, no, you're not in my way, certainly not, I know what I owe you. But that--that--there are things we can only conquer when we can close our eyes and cry like little children. Do you know, my dear friend--I should like--But why speak of it? You can't understand. To-morrow will be your day, won't it? Yes, it was yesterday that you remained with me and that insolent man--but we'll say no more about it. I shall expect you to-morrow. Farewell for to-day. Forgive me for not asking you to drive home with me. But it's better so--besides, I don't know what I'm talking about--I--oh God!" She pressed her hand to her brow and paused a moment, as if her head realed. Edwin ventured to draw her closer to him, "My dear, dear child, compose yourself," said he. "What has happened? What is lost?" She instantly regained her composure, "Nothing," she murmured. "I thank you very much for all your friendship. So to-morrow--and farewell!" She held out her hand and looked at him, apparently quite calm again, and then entered the carriage; the dwarf climbed nimbly up to the box, and Edwin saw her bend forward and look at him with a long, earnest gaze as she drove away. Then he remained alone in the grey day with his gloomy thoughts. CHAPTER VI.