ey, and no one would ever have
supposed a young girl occupied it, had it not been for a large gilt harp
that leaned against the long, hard couch beside the fireplace.

Henrica's head was burning but, though she had wrapped a shawl around her
lower limbs, her feet were freezing on the uncarpeted stone floor.

A short time after the three gentlemen had entered her aunt's house, a
woman's figure ascended the stairs leading from the first to the second
story. Henrica's over-excited senses perceived the light tread of the
satin shoes and the rustle of the silk train, long before the approaching
form had reached the room, and with quickened breathing, she sat erect.

A thin hand, without any preliminary knock, now opened the door and old
Fraulein Van Hoogstraten walked up to her niece.

The elderly dame had once been beautiful, now and at this hour she
presented a strange, unpleasing appearance.

The thin, bent figure was attired in a long trailing robe of heavy pink
silk. The little head almost disappeared in the ruff, a large structure
of immense height and width. Long chains of pearls and glittering gems
hung on the sallow skin displayed by the open neck of her dress, and on
the false, reddish-yellow curls rested a roll of light-blue velvet decked
with ostrich plumes. A strong odor of various fragrant essences preceded
her. She herself probably found them somewhat overpowering, for her large
glittering fan was in constant motion and fluttered violently, when in
answer to her curt: "Quick, quick," Henrica returned a resolute "no, 'ma
tante.'"

The old lady, however, was not at all disconcerted by the refusal, but
merely repeated her "Quick, quick," more positively, adding as an
important reason:

"Monseigneur has come and wants to hear you."

"He does me great honor," replied the young girl, "great honor, but how
often must I repeat: I will not come."

"Is it allowable to ask why not, my fair one?" said the old lady.

"Because I am not fit for your society," cried Henrica vehemently,
"because my head aches and my eyes burn, because I can't sing to-day, and
because--because--because--I entreat you, leave me in peace."

Old Fraulein Van Hoogstraten let her fan sink by her side, and said
coolly:

"Were you singing two hours ago--yes or no?"

"Yes."

"Then your headache can't be so very bad, and Denise will dress you."

"If she comes, I'll send her away. When I just took the harp, I did so to
sing the pain awa