line of
apple and pear trees lifted gaunt twisted arms to the leaden sky, as
though in protest against the sullen aspect of the world. Wilhelmine
paused and looked about her. The snow was surely coming; there was the
hush in the air which precedes a snowstorm, and she was some distance
from home. She strained her eyes westward and endeavoured to catch a
glimpse of the lake towards which she was journeying, but she could see
nothing save the drenched fields, and in the dim distance the dark line
of fir woods. She turned her face homewards and began to walk with a
quickened step. The cold air had made her hungry; she had only partaken
of a lump of black bread and a glass of milk, and it was now late in the
morning. She felt a soft cold touch on her cheek, the first snowflake of
the gathering storm. At first the snowflakes only added to the slush on
the road; they melted shudderingly and were devoured by the brown mud,
but as the snow fell the mud was conquered and lay hidden beneath a
dazzling white covering. Ever faster came the snow. It beat down on
Wilhelmine, the large fleecy patches almost blinding her. She had walked
farther than she had realised, and her feet sinking deep through the snow
into the mud beneath, the high heels of her thin shoes stuck and impeded
her progress. At length she reached the outskirts of the town, whose red
roofs were already almost hidden by a white layer of snow. She hurried up
the deserted street, past the cathedral. When she came to the corner of
the market-place she saw a dark figure in a cloak of peasant's frieze
coming towards her, and with a feeling of annoyance she recognised Pastor
Mueller.

At that moment he too observed her, and hurried to meet her. 'Ah!
Fraeulein,' he said as he came up, 'I am grieved to see you exposed to
this inclement weather. May I not offer you the hospitality of my
house?' He spoke in German with a careful affectation of correctness,
though his accent was harsh and guttural from his native low German
dialect. Wilhelmine particularly detested his speech, and it irritated
her to be addressed as 'Fraeulein,' as though she were a burgher's
daughter, and not of sufficiently noble birth to be styled 'gracious
lady.' Of a truth, the pastor was not a person to inspire either liking
or respect. He was fat in body, with short plump legs whose common shape
was exhibited to the fullest extent by tight knee-breeches and woollen
stockings. His face was enormous, and t