"My heart beat so violently that I could hardly draw my breath. So he, he took me into his confidence, he made a confederate of me. I could have embraced him there and then, so grateful did I feel towards him. "'And does she know it?' I inquired. "'I daresay she knows it,' he remarked; 'a thing of that sort cannot be concealed----' "What--then--you have not--told her?' I stammered. "He shook his head sadly. "I was awakened from all my illusions. So the arbours of our garden had never afforded shelter to two lovers, the moon as it shone through the branches had never been the witness of clandestine kisses? And all my romancing had proved itself nothing but idle imagination? But in the midst of my disillusion a deep compassion seized me for this giant, crouching beside me as helpless as a child. Surely, I vowed to myself, he shall not in vain have put his trust in me! "'Why did you remain silent?' I inquired further. "He looked somewhat suspiciously at my immature youth, and then began, heaving a deep breath:-- "'You see, at that time I was a silly young fellow, and could not pluck up courage to speak; in the years of one's youth one is already so supremely happy if one can only now and again secure a secret pressure of the hand, that one thinks marriage can have no further bliss to offer. But----you really cannot understand all these things.' "'Who knows?' replied I, in my innocence; 'I have read a great deal on the subject already.' "'The short and the long of it is.' he continued, 'that I was then nearly as foolish as you are at present. And now, you see, if I speak to her now, every word binds me with iron fetters to all eternity.' "'And don't you wish to bind yourself?' I asked in astonishment. "'I _may_ not,' he cried; 'I dare not, for I do not know if I can make her happy.' "'Well, of course, if you do not know that,' said I, drawing up my lips contemptuously, and in my heart I inferred further: 'Then he cannot love her either.' "But he started up with sparkling eyes: 'Understand me aright, little one.' he cried; 'if it only depended on me, I would ask nothing better all my life, than to carry her in my arms, lest her foot might dash against a stone. But--oh, this misery--this misery!' And he tore his hair, so that I grew quite frightened of him. Never should I have thought it possible for this quiet, reflective man to behave so passionately. "'Confide in me, Robert,' said I, placing my hand on his shoulder; 'I am only a foolish girl, but it will unburden your heart.' "'I cannot,' he groaned, 'I cannot!' "'Why not?'