e the prie-dieu. Eva did the same, resting her
head so long upon her clasped hands that the patient older sister could
not wait for the "Amen," but, in order not to disturb Eva's devotion,
only pressed a light kiss upon her head and then carefully drew the
curtains closely over the windows which, instead of glass, contained
oiled parchment.

Eva's excitement filled her with anxiety. She knew, too, what a powerful
influence the bright moonlight sometimes exerted upon her while she
slept, and cast another glance at the closely curtained window before she
went to her own bed. There she lay a long time, with eyes wide open,
pondering over her sister's words, and in doing so perceived more and
more clearly that love was now knocking at the heart of the child
kneeling before the prie-dieu. Sir Heinz Schorlin, the wild butterfly,
desired to sip the honey from this sweet, untouched flower, and then
probably abandon her like so many before her. Love and anxiety made the
girl, whose opinion was usually milder than her sister's, a stern and
unwise judge, for she assumed that the Swiss--whose character in reality
was far removed from base hypocrisy--the man whom she had just termed a
wolf, had donned sheep's clothing to make her poor lambkin an easier
prey. But she was on guard and ready to spoil his game.

Did Eva really fail to understand the new feeling which had seized her so
swiftly and powerfully? Did she lull herself in the delusion that she
cared only for the welfare of the soul of the pious young knight?

Yes, it might be so, and prudent Els, who had watched her own little
world intently enough, said to herself that it would be pouring oil upon
the flames to tease Eva about the defeat which she, the "little saint,"
had sustained in the battle against the demands of the world and of the
feminine heart. Besides, her sister was too dear for her to rejoice in
her humiliation. Els resolved not to utter a word about the Swiss unless
compelled to do so.

Eva's prayers before retiring were often very long, but to-night it
seemed as if they would never end.

"She is not appealing to St. Clare for herself alone, but for another,"
thought Els. "I spend less time in doing it. True, a Heinz Schorlin needs
longer intercession than my Eva, my Wolff, and my poor pious mother. But
I won't disturb her yet."

Sighing faintly, she changed her position, but remained sitting propped
against the white pillows in order not to allow herself