drank the liquor with relish, the strong spirits coursing
through her with a grateful, tingling feeling, for she was really in need
of food.

'Dear lady,' said Mueller, pouring a large quantity of the brandy into his
own glass, 'I give you of my best; this excellent liquor was a present to
me from the noble Herr von Maltzan. He is a generous friend to me. But
truly, this beverage is not for those whom the Lord has blessed with
health and strength, and I keep it for the use of the sick, though my own
delicate constitution demands, at rare intervals, a small amount to
strengthen me. Dear Fraeulein, I give it gladly to you this morning, for
it is cruelly cold, and you, my dear one, were exposed to the rigours of
the storm.'

'I thank you, Herr Pastor; I feel truly better for your breakfast, though
my head is going round a little, I must confess,' said Wilhelmine.

Mueller looked at her curiously, then, rising, he walked to the window,
and watched the driving snow. After a few moments he returned, and
drawing up his chair near the stove he spread out his fat fingers,
warming them at the fire. There was silence between them, only broken by
the wind outside, which had risen and was whistling and howling, and
driving the snow in clouds down the street. Suddenly the pastor bent down
and laid his hand on her stockinged foot. 'Still damp,' he said; 'it
would be well if you took off your hose and dried them.' Wilhelmine
smiled lazily.

'Good Herr Pastor,' she said, 'your plenteous meal has made me sleepy. I
cannot take the trouble to take off my hose even though they may be a
trifle wet.' She closed her eyes. The walk in the strong winter air,
followed by the warmth of the room and the unaccustomed alcohol made her
drowsy, and she wished to be undisturbed in her half dream. Mueller's face
flushed to a deep purple, then paled. He breathed heavily, and the veins
stood out on his temples like cords.

'Wilhelmine,' he said in a hoarse, thick whisper, 'you shall indeed be my
wife--I promise you--ah, you are fitted to adorn any position,
Wilhelmine, my bride!' He bent and kissed her stockinged foot, and his
coarse fingers pressed deep into her slight ankle.

'Your condescension amazes me, Herr Pastor,' she said mockingly, 'but I
fear----'

'Nay, my dear, no maidenly modesty! Come, we are affianced now; let me
give thee the lover's kiss!' He leaned over her. His breath was sour with
the smell of corn brandy. His eyes were glassy