k followed another, the third Sunday in Advent went by, and the
holy tide was at hand when the delay should end which the patient suitor
had allowed.

I had seen Ann less often than in past times. In the coppersmith's great
household she commonly had her hands full, and I felt indeed that her
face was changed towards me. A kind of fear, which I had not marked in
her of old, had come over her of late; meseemed she lived ever in dread
of some new insult and hurt; also she had courteously but steadfastly
refused to join in the festivities to which she was bidden by Elsa Ebner
or others of the upper class, and even said nay to uncle Christian's
bidding to a dance, to be given this very day, being his name-day, at
his lodgings in the Castle. I likewise was bidden and had accepted my
godfather's kindness; but my timid endeavor to move Ann to do his will,
as her best and dearest old friend, brought forth the sorrowful answer
that I myself must judge how little she was fit for any merry-makings
of the kind. My friendship with her, which had once been my highest joy,
had thus lost all its lightheartedness, albeit it had not lost all its
joys, nor was she therefore the less dear to me though I dealt with
her now as with a well-beloved child for whose hurt we are not wholly
blameless.

Now it fell that on this day, the 20th December, being my godfather's
name-day, I found her not with the rest, but in her own chamber in
violent distress. Her cheeks were on fire, and she was in such turmoil
as though she had escaped some terrible persecution. Thereupon I
questioned her in haste and fear, and she answered me with reserve,
till, on a sudden, she cried:

"It is killing me! I will bear it no more!" and hid her face in her
hands, I clasped her in my arms, and to soothe her spoke in praise of
her stepfather, Master Pernhart, and his high spirit and good heart;
then she sobbed aloud and said: "Oh, for that matter! If that were all!"

And suddenly, or even I was aware, she had cast her arms about me and
kissed my lips and cheeks with great warmth. Then she cried out: "Oh,
Margery! You cannot turn from me! I indeed tried to turn from you; and I
could have done it, even if it had cost me my heart's blood! But now and
here I ask you: Is it just that I should lay myself on the rack because
he has so cruelly hurt me? No, no. And I need your true soul to help me
to shake off the burden which is crushing me to the earth and choking
me. Help m