Mr. Feuerstein was holding Hilda's hand while he looked soulfully down into her eyes. She was returning his gaze, her eyes expressing all the Schwarmerei of which their dark depths were capable at nineteen. He was telling her what a high profession the actor's was, how great he was as an actor, how commonplace her life there, how beautiful he could make it if only he had money. It was an experience to hear Mr. Feuerstein say the word "money." Elocution could go no further in surcharging five letters with contempt. His was one of those lofty natures that scorn all such matters of intimate concern to the humble, hard-pressed little human animal as food, clothing and shelter. He so loathed money that he would not deign to work for it, and as rapidly as possible got rid of any that came into his possession. "Yes, my adorable little princess," he rolled out, in the tones which wove a spell over Hilda. "I adore you. How strange that _I_ should have wandered into THIS region for my soul's bride--and should have found her!" Hilda pressed his clasping hand and her heart fluttered. But she was as silent and shy as Heilig with her. What words had she fit to express response to these exalted emotions? "I--I feel it," she said timidly. "But I can't say it to you. You must think me very foolish." "No--you need not speak. I know what you would say. Our hearts speak each to the other without words, my beautiful jewel. And what do you think your parents will say?" "I--I don't know," stammered Hilda. "They are so set on my marrying"--she glanced toward Otto--how ordinary he looked!--"marrying another--a merchant like my father. They think only of what is practical. I'm so afraid they won't understand--US." Feuerstein sighed--the darkness prevented her from seeing that he was also frowning with impatience and irritation. "But it must be settled at once, my heart's bride," he said gently. "Secrecy, deception are horrible to me. And I am mad to claim you as my own. I could not take you without their consent--that would be unworthy. No, I could not grieve their honest hearts!" Hilda was much disturbed. She was eminently practical herself, aside from her fondness for romance, which Mr. Feuerstein was developing in a way so unnatural in her surroundings, so foreign to her education; and she could see just how her father would look upon her lover. She feared he would vent plain speech that would cut Mr. Feuerstein's sensitive soul and embattle his dignity and pride against his love. "I'll speak to them as soon as I can," she said. "Then you will speak to them to-morrow or next day, my treasure, and I shall see you on Sunday afternoon." "No--not Sunday afternoon. I must stay at home--father has ordered it." "Disappointment--deception--postponement!" Feuerstein struck his hand upon his brow and sighed tragically. "Oh, my little Erebus-haired angel, how you do test my love!"