en love hath flown, who shall endure?"

"Queer song for me to sing, isn't it, Bianca?" Charlotta called back
over her shoulder. "Yet perhaps after all it is because I intend to try
to live always as true as I can to my ideals that I have done what my
father and aunt and perhaps Mrs. Clark do not approve. I ought to
remember that I am a good deal older than you are in years and far, far
older in experience. Yet I do so love the old German lieder, even if
they are sentimental."

As Bianca made no reply to this speech continuing on her way, Charlotta
began walking faster than she realized.

Until this afternoon she had never felt so thoroughly happy over her
freedom from the future which for nearly a year had stretched before her
like a dark cloud. Since leaving Luxemburg, although she had not
actually regretted her own action, at least she had been harassed with
the sense of her father's anger and disappointment.

But today she was happy in forgetting everything save her love of the
fresh air, of the blue sky, of the dark rim of hills on the further side
of the Rhine, of walking deeper and deeper into the spring woods.

"Don't you think we had better go back, Charlotta?" Bianca called, not
once, but several times, and if Charlotta had only been less
self-absorbed she must have understood that Bianca's voice each time
sounded a little further away and fainter.

But finally, hearing an unexpected sound, Charlotta swung swiftly
around.

About half a dozen yards from her, Bianca had fallen and was making no
effort to rise.

"Bianca dear, I am so sorry," she cried out at once with the impulsive
sweetness characteristic of her. "I am afraid you are tired out and I am
a wretch not to have remembered! Mrs. Clark will be angry with me. Come,
let me help you up. I wish I could carry you, but at least you can take
my arm. Oh dear, what an impossibly selfish person I am! Poor Miss
Pringle is probably dreadfully worried to discover what has become of
us. I fear my aunt is right when she says I never think of other people
until it is too late to be of value to them."

But although Bianca did get up, Charlotta was frightened to discover
that every bit of color had disappeared from her face and that she
looked utterly worn out.

"I was stupid not to have gone back without you, Charlotta, or not to
have made you understand I was too tired to walk so far," Bianca
protested, not willing to allow the other girl to bear all of the