He had turned towards Ottilie. Alma--threw herself back into the sofa corner, pouting. Brandow's manner was certainly very strange to-day, so cold, not in the least like his usual one. Alma determined to punish him for it when Gotthold came, and to render the pain more severe, resolved to be particularly charming during the few minutes that would intervene. But the minutes passed, the clock struck eleven, half-past eleven--an hour had elapsed since Brandow's arrival, and still no sound of carriage wheels was heard, nothing but the rustling of the tall poplars in the little square before the house, and the plashing of the rain against the window-panes whenever a pause in the conversation occurred. And it seemed as if the later it grew, the more frequent such pauses became; for Ottilie, contrary to her custom, spoke very little. Alma, as usual, thought it enough to give people, by a gracious smile, permission to amuse her, and Brandow, this evening, was by no means the entertaining companion he was generally considered. The restlessness with which he darted from one subject to another had a feverish haste, his laugh sounded forced, at times he did not seem to notice that not a word had been uttered for some minutes, but sat staring at the picture, until he suddenly started and began to talk again in an extremely loud voice, whose harsh tones jarred upon Ottilie's nerves. Her anxiety increased every moment. She had already risen several times, gone to the window, and pushing aside the curtain, gazed out in the night, which was made, if possible, darker still by the feeble gleam of the tiny flames in the street-lamps. "I am very anxious," she exclaimed at last, turning from the window. "It is certainly strange," said Brandow, "it is now ten minutes of twelve; they ought to have been here an hour ago." "And my husband does not come either," said Ottilie. "Be glad that he is having a good time," replied Alma. "Are you going already, my dear friend?" "I will try to obtain some news of them," answered Brandow, who had hastily risen and taken his hat. "You won't venture out into this darkness again?" cried Alma. "Why, Alma!" exclaimed Ottilie. Brandow was in the act of taking leave, when the doorbell rang, a heavy step passed through the counting-room, and Herr Wollnow entered. Ottilie hurried towards him, and in a few words told him how matters stood. Herr Wollnow greeted the late guest with cold politeness. He saw no special reason for being anxious as yet, if Herr Brandow was not. "But he is," cried Ottilie. "In that case Herr Brandow would have gone in search of information long ago," replied Wollnow. "I am anxious, and I am not," said Brandow. "It is certainly a very dark night, and the road is not particularly good in one or two places, but Hinrich Scheel is a remarkably good driver, and--yes, it has just occurred to me--Gustav von Plueggen drove over the same road only a few minutes before our friends."