hen because I
loved to hear him talk to me. I do not mind telling you, Ruth, now. And
then I came because--because he said I was to be his wife. I thought
that if I was to be his wife it could not be wrong that I should go to
his father's house. But now that so many people know it--that they talk
about it so much--I cannot go to him now."

"But you are not ashamed of being engaged to him--because he is a Jew?"

"No," said Nina, raising herself to her full height; "I am not ashamed
of him. I am proud of him. To my thinking there is no man like him.
Compare him and Ziska, and Ziska becomes hardly a man at all. I am very
proud to think that he has chosen me."

"That is well spoken, and I shall tell him."

"No, you must not tell him, Ruth. Remember that I talk to you as a
friend, and not as a child."

"But I will tell him, because then his brow will become smooth, and he
will be happy. He likes to think that people know him to be clever; and
he will be glad to be told that you understand him."

"I think him greater and better than all men; but, Ruth, you must not
tell him what I say--not now, at least--for a reason."

"What reason, Nina?"

"Well; I will tell you, though I would not tell anyone else in the
world. When we parted last I was angry with him--very angry with him."

"He had been scolding you, perhaps?"

"I should not mind that--not in the least. He has a right to scold me."

"He has a right to scold me, I suppose; but I mind it very much."

"But he has no right to distrust me, Ruth. I wish he could see my heart
and all my mind, and know every thought in my breast, and then he would
feel that he could trust me. I would not deceive him by a word or a
look for all the world. He does not know how true I am to him, and that
kills me."

"I will tell him everything."

"No, Ruth; tell him nothing. If he cannot find it out without being
told, telling will do no good. If you thought a person was a thief,
would you change your mind because the person told you he was honest?
He must find it out for himself if he is ever to know it."

When Ruth was gone, Nina knew that she had been comforted. To have
spoken about her lover was in itself much; and to have spoken about him
as she had done seemed almost to have brought him once more near to
her. Ruth had declared that Anton was sad, and had suggested to Nina
that the cause of his sadness was the same as her own. There could not
but be comfort in this. If he real