"Yes--yes, that was a quaint adventure," he went on, as he stretched himself and put his hand before his mouth to suppress a yawn of fatigue; "but we caught you neatly, you runaway." Her fears increased. If only she had not been such a coward--such an unutterable coward--she would have drawn herself to her full height and exclaimed indignantly, "Why do you despise me to-day? Don't you know what you have done?" But she didn't dare move an eyelash, much less look up. And as she still remained tongue-tied, he bent over her, and, stroking her forehead, asked her, grinning-- "Have we made peace at last, dear child?" This was a ray of light. She thanked God for it, nodded, and tried to smile. "Well, well," he ejaculated in doubt, as she had not spoken. But instead of an answer, she gathered the roses together and offered them to him. "Do they belong to me?" he asked. "Yes, to you," she whispered, with a shy, tender light in her eyes, "dir".[1] He marked the expression, and a bitter sense of a marred happiness stabbed his soul. He seized the little brown hand in gratitude. At this moment steps were heard in the dining-room, the glass door of which stood open. "Grandmamma is coming!" exclaimed Hertha, shocked, snatching away her hand. "Well, let her come," he said, in some surprise. Then, as grandmamma appeared, followed by Christian, he relapsed again into reverie. He ate and drank, but it was like an automaton eating and drinking. Her eyes did not move from his face. She dreaded to try and win a look from him, full of understanding and warm feeling, yet it seemed as if she had ceased to exist for him. She might be stupid, and of course she was, but this much she knew--that a man did not usually treat the woman of his choice in such a manner. Meta Podewyl, for instance, and Hans Sembritzky were in love with each other for a long time before he declared himself. They called each other "Herr Baron" and "Gnädiges Fräulein" quite stiffly, and were outwardly like strangers; but their eyes could not deceive them. They spoke a glowing language which made all formality a pretence. And then how dreamily and blissfully they had smiled away into vacancy, when their eyes might no longer meet! But he--oh, he! With a low murmur, he stood up, shot his shirt-cuffs, whistled to his dog, and strode away without vouchsafing her another look. Without another look! Later the same thing repeated itself. Hertha sat through lunch in dull misery. Two tears fell on the hands that nervously crumbled her bread. Grandmamma had been sharply observing her, and it had not escaped her that Hertha, whose healthy appetite was proverbial in the house, had to-day scarcely swallowed a morsel of meat. She slipped noiselessly out of her seat, pushed Elly aside, and caught hold of Hertha's left hand. She jumped up as if she had been pricked by a needle. "Sit down, and give me your wrist," commanded grandmamma.