his ship--was it
not his ship? was not its cargo his hopes and dreams and plans?--was
sailing away with another man at the helm! And he could do
nothing--must sit dumb upon the shore.

At half-past twelve he closed the shop and, after the midday dinner
with his mother, went down to Brauner's. Hilda was in the room back of
the shop, alone, and so agitated with her own affairs that she forgot
to be cold and contemptuous to Otto. He bowed to her, then stood
staring at the framed picture of Die Wacht am Rhein as if he had never
before seen the wonderful lady in red and gold seated under a tree and
gazing out over the river--all the verses were underneath. When he
could stare at it no longer he turned to the other wall where hung the
target bearing the marks of Paul Brauner's best shots in the prize
contest he had won. But he saw neither the lady watching the Rhine nor
the target with its bullet holes all in the bull's-eye ring, and its
pendent festoon of medals. He was longing to pour out his love for
her, to say to her the thousand things he could say to the image of her
in his mind when she was not near. But he could only stand, an awkward
figure, at which she would have smiled if she had seen it at all.

She went out into the shop. While he was still trying to lay hold of
an end of the spinning tangle of his thoughts and draw it forth in the
hope that all would follow, she returned, fright in her eyes. She
clasped her hands nervously and her cheeks blanched. "Mr. Feuerstein!"
she exclaimed. "And he's coming here! What SHALL I do?"

"What is the matter?" he asked.

She turned upon him angrily--he was the convenient vent for her
nervousness. "It's all your fault!" she exclaimed. "They want to
force me to marry you. And I dare not bring here the man I love."

"My fault?" he muttered, dazed. "I'm not to blame."

"Stupid! You're always in the way--no wonder I HATE you!" She was
clasping and unclasping her hands, trying to think, not conscious of
what she was saying.

"Hate me?" he repeated mechanically. "Oh, no--surely not that. No, you
can't--"

"Be still! Let me think. Ach! Gott im Himmel! He's in the hall!"
She sank wretchedly into a chair. "Can you do nothing but gape and
mutter?" In her desperation her tone was appealing.

"He can say he came with me," said Otto. "I'll stand for him."

"Yes--yes!" she cried. "That will do! Thank you--thank you!" And as
the knock came at the door s