She became more collected and went into the open valley, no longer the quiet girl she was formerly. Her own life and what surrounded her shone in new colors, and she viewed the world with new feelings. She understood the language of the pair of swallows that circled round her, and with twittering tones passed by her swift as arrows. It was the rapturous joy of life which impelled the little bodies so swiftly through the air, and the birds greeted her with a sisterly song of jubilee. She answered the greeting of the laborers who were going home from the fields, and she looked at one of the women who had been binding the sheaves, and knew exactly what was the state of her feelings. This woman also had, as a maiden, loved a strange lad; it had been a long and unhappy attachment, attended by much sorrow; but now she was comforted going with him to her home, and when she spoke to her mistress she looked proudly on her companion, and Ilse felt how happy was the poor weary woman. When Ilse entered the farm-yard, and heard the voices of the maids who had waited for her in vain, and the impatient lowing of the cattle, which sounded like a reproach on the loitering mistress, she shook her head gently, as if the admonition was no longer for her, but for another. When she again passed from the farm buildings into the golden evening light, with fleet steps and elevated head, she perceived with astonishment her father standing by his horse ready to mount, and with him, in quiet conversation, the Doctor, and he whom at this moment she felt a difficulty in encountering. She approached hesitatingly. "Where have you been lingering. Ilse?" cried the Proprietor. "I must be off," and looking at the agitated countenance of his daughter, he added: "It is nothing of importance. A letter from the invalid forester calls me to his house. One of the Court people has arrived, and I can guess what is wanted of me. I hope to be back at night." He nodded to the Doctor. "We shall see each other again before your departure." So saying, he trotted away, and Ilse was thankful in her heart for the incident which made it easier for her to speak with composure to the friends. She walked with them on the road along which her father had ridden, and endeavored to conceal her disquiet by talking on indifferent subjects. She spoke of the hunting castle in the wood, and of the solitude in which the gray-headed forester dwelt among the beech-trees of the forest. But the conversation did not flow; each of those noble hearts was powerfully touched. The Professor and Ilse avoided looking at each other, and the friend could not succeed, by jocose talk, in drawing the lovers down to the small things of life. Ilse suddenly pointed with her hand to a narrow pass on one side, from which many dark heads were emerging. "Look! There are the Indians of Mrs. Rollmaus."