He opened his eyes shivering, and gave her a half-dazed look. Then closed them again. "We must go now," she whispered, gently raising his head. "The gardener might come and surprise us, and then it would be all up indeed." He rubbed his forehead, rose slowly, and shook himself, and then reeled against the wall. "Come, come," she implored, drawing her furs over her shoulders. "Yes, I am coming," he said, and stumbled obediently behind her out into the snow. He paused at the hall door. "You are not going home?" she asked, shocked at the idea. "Yes, I shall go home," he responded. There was something monotonous, almost mechanical, in his way of speaking, which prevented her pressing him to come in. "Ah, how sweet it was," she murmured, seizing his hand and pressing it to her heart. He made no reply, but turned from her and walked away into the darkness with uncertain steps. She heard his voice once more, coming from the stables; then the tinkle of a sleigh-bell, and all was silent. As old Minna opened the door to her mistress, she beheld a pair of eyes radiant with delight, and parted lips smiling blissfully. "Now God be praised!" said she; "all is right again." Felicitas glided past her in silence, and locked herself in her bedroom. It was too late to think any more of Paul's Christmas parcel that night. XXXI Christmas Eve was drawing very near, but Hertha Prachwitz was still not quite ready with her presents. For her stepmother she had painted a hymnbook cover of punched leather, with mottoes and emblems; she had embroidered a table-centre for grandmamma, and crocheted an Irish lace collar for Elly. Now she was at work till late at night on a pocket-book, which was to be sent anonymously to Leo, and which, besides places for letters, contained a memorandum table and a frame for photographs. This frame was designed specially to hold a picture of Felicitas von Kletzingk. Hertha had not come any nearer solving the problem as to whether she was wicked or not, but one thing she knew for certain, that he loved her, and so she hoped his love might not be in vain. She herself had quietly renounced all thought of him. Perhaps she would become a Catholic again, and go into a convent, or perhaps, as sick-nurse, succumb to the first epidemic. There were, indeed, numbers of opportunities of seeking the death of the superfluous. Her intention of becoming a hospital-nurse Hertha had not been able to keep to herself. Her stepmother, unfortunately, encouraged the idea. At this time she wore black dresses with white turn-down collars and cuffs, after the style of English nurses, and in secret made the sign of the cross over herself and Elly. This phase in Hertha caused grandmamma much uneasiness, and as she found that she could no longer win the child's confidence, she consulted Pastor Brenckenberg about her one Sunday in the vestry.