"'She loves you much too much.' I replied, biting my lips. I knew I should pain him, and I meant to do so. "He started and looked at me for a while in open astonishment; then he nodded several times to himself and said, 'You are right with your reproach, she does love me much too much.' "Then I should already have liked to ask his forgiveness again. Surely he did not deserve my malice! His soul was pure and clear as the sunlight, and it was only within me that there was darkness. I felt as if I must choke with suppressed tears. I saw that I could not contain myself any longer, and rose quickly. "'Good-night, Robert.' I said, without giving him my hand; 'I am overtired--must go to bed--leave me--one of the servants will show me my way. Leave me--I tell you!' "I screamed out the last words as if in anger, so that he stopped perturbed. In the cool, semi-obscure corridor I began to feel calmer. For a time I walked up and down breathing heavily, then I fetched one of the maids to show me the way. "'Mistress arranged everything in the room herself yet, and gave orders that no one was to touch it. There is a letter, too, for you, miss.' "When I was alone, I held survey. My good, dear sister! She had faithfully remembered my slightest wishes, every one of my little habits of formerly, and had thought out everything that could make my room as cosy and homely as possible. Nothing was wanting of the things which I prized in those days. Over the bed hung a red-flowered curtain exactly like the one beneath the hangings of which I had dreamed my first girlish dreams; on the window-sill stood geraniums and cyclamen, such as I had always tended, on the walls hung the same pictures upon which my glance had been wont to rest at waking, on the shelves stood the same books from which my soul had derived its first food of love. "'Iphigenia,' which in those bright calm days had been my favourite poem, lay open on the table. Ah, good heavens! how long it already was since I had read in it, for how long already had I passed it by, because the calm dignity of the holy priestess pained my soul. "Between the leaves was placed the letter of which the girl had told me. A gentle presentiment, a presentiment of new, undeserved love came over me as I tore open the envelope and read:-- "'My Darling Sister,--When you enter this room I shall not be able to bid you welcome. I shall then be lying ill, and perhaps even my lips will be closed for ever. You will find everything as you used to have it at home. It has been prepared for you a long time already everything was awaiting you. Whether sorrow or joy may attend you here, lie down to rest in peace and fall asleep with the consciousness that you have entered your home. Try and learn to love Robert as he will learn to love you. Then all must turn out well yet, whether God leaves me with you or takes me to Himself. "'Your sister