They became silent, and he still sat beside her, her hand locked in his; and as the short December afternoon closed in, she shut her eyes, worn out even with this quiet excitement, and he could not tell whether she slept or not. In the quiet room there was utter peace and stillness–a wasted, pallid-looking woman, with eyes wearily closed, and breathing so lightly her bosom scarce seemed to move; a man watching beside her, whose strong, calm face never lost its expression of assured contentment, and whose eyes were full of peace: surely no very remarkable scene. But the whole of the gossip-loving town of Elberthal was ringing with the names of that man and that woman. It happened to be Frau Wilhelmi’s reception night, and great was the disappointment felt because neither she, nor her husband, nor her daughter would enlarge upon the subject of the marriage they had witnessed that afternoon–would say nothing more than that _if_ Miss Ford recovered, they were sure it would be an excellent thing. Max Helmuth found his Luise very subdued, and very tender. No sarcasm and no coquetries greeted him that night. When he asked her why she was so quiet, tears filled her eyes, and she answered: ‘Ah, if you knew, _Schatz_! I cannot think of anything but this afternoon. It was like a beautiful legend. Do you know that little picture of papa’s, which he shows to very few people, and then he generally tells them it is a head of St. Ignatius Loyola?’ ‘I know it–yes.’ ‘Yes. But to me he always calls it “The Human Face _Divine_,” and so it is. Falkenberg had just the same look this morning, in his eyes, and on his mouth. When I think of that, and then hear these wretches gossiping about it, it makes me feel–I don’t know how. I know I will never talk gossip again, Max.’ ‘Till the next time, _Liebchen_! But I hope Miss Ford will recover, and make him happy, as he deserves to be.’ [Illustration] CHAPTER IV. DOUBTS. ‘I pray you, is death or birth The thing that men call so weary?’ The days of her convalescence passed to Sara like a long, vague dream. Slowly, very slowly, she recovered strength–as if some inner instinct made her unwilling to return to her place amongst that common humanity which had lately dealt her so bitter a blow. December was waning–Christmas was close at hand–before she had gained sufficient strength to walk from one room to the other. That feat was first accomplished with the assistance of Rudolf’s arm. Then she was able to do it alone. It was after this that she gained strength daily, and with physical strength also returned mental strength. She had drifted on, seeing no visitors save one, and even that one, Rudolf, had been absent for some days, on the plea of business. He had left no word as to when he should return, or what his plans were.