d
grown accustomed to that sarcastic, wrinkled, bitter face, and did not
dislike it. Indeed, Miss Hallam had given me abundant proofs that,
eccentric though she might be, pessimist in theory, merciless upon human
nature, which she spoke of in a manner which sometimes absolutely
appalled me, yet in fact, in deed, she was a warm-hearted, generous
woman. She had dealt bountifully by me, and I knew she loved me, though
she never said so.

"May," she presently remarked, "yesterday, when you were out, I saw
Doctor Mittendorf."

"Did you, Miss Hallam?"

"Yes. He says it is useless my remaining here any longer. I shall never
see, and an operation might cost me my life!"

Half-stunned, and not yet quite taking in the whole case, I held my work
suspended, and looked at her. She went on:

"I knew it would be so when I came. I don't intend to try any more
experiments. I shall go home next week."

Now I grasped the truth.

"Go home, Miss Hallam!" I repeated, faintly.

"Yes, of course. There is no reason why I should stay, is there?"

"N--no, I suppose not," I admitted; and contrived to stammer out, "and I
am very sorry that Doctor Mittendorf thinks you will not be better."

Then I left the room quickly--I could not stay, I was overwhelmed. It
was scarcely ten minutes since I had come upstairs to her. I could have
thought it was a week.

Outside the room, I stood on the landing with my hand pressed to my
forehead, for I felt somewhat bewildered. Stella's letter was still in
my hand. As I stood there Anna Sartorius came past.

"_Guten Tag, Fraeulein_," said she, with a mocking kind of good-nature
when she had observed me for a few minutes. "What is the matter? Are you
ill? Have you had bad news?"

"Good-morning, Fraeulein," I answered, quietly enough, dropping my hand
from my brow.

I went to my room. A maid was there, and the furniture might have stood
as a type of chaos. I turned away, and went to the empty room, in which
my piano stood, and where I had my music lessons. I sat down upon a
stool in the middle of the room, folded my hands in my lap, and
endeavored to realize what had happened--what was going to happen. There
rang in my head nothing but the words, "I am going home next week."

Home again! What a blank yawned before me at the idea! Leave
Elberthal--leave this new life which had just begun to grow real to
me! Leave it--go away; be whirled rapidly away back to Skernford--away
from this vivid life, away