Fraeulein in the castle?"

"Yes, Herr von Fink."

"Very well. A messenger goes this evening to Neudorf;" and with rapid
step he hurried into the house.

Lenore sat in her room sewing, with a good deal of cut-out linen round
her. She diligently passed her needle through the stiff cloth, sometimes
stretching the seam on her knee, smoothing it with her thimble, and
looking doubtfully to see whether each individual stitch was small and
even. Then that rapid footstep was heard in the passage, and springing
up, she convulsively pressed her work together. But she composed herself
by a mighty effort, and sat down again to her task. He knocked at her
door. A deep blush spread slowly over her face, and her "Come in" hardly
reached her guest's ear. As Fink entered, he glanced with some curiosity
around the plainly-furnished room, which had a few chalk drawings by
Lenore on the walls, but nothing else except absolutely necessary
furniture. Even the little panther-skin sofa was gone.

When Fink bowed before her, she inquired in a tone of indifference,
"Have you been detained by any thing unpleasant? We were all uneasy
about you."

"A property that I have bought interfered with my return. I come now in
all haste to report myself to my mistress, and, at the same time, I
bring a packet which Anton has sent for the baroness. If she feels
sufficiently well to see me, will you prepare her to do so?"

Lenore took the letter. "I will go immediately to my mother; pray excuse
me;" and, slightly bending, she tried to pass him.

Fink waved her back, and said jokingly, "I find you most housewifely
busy with needle and scissors. Who is the happy one for whom you are
sewing those wedge-shaped pieces together?"

Lenore blushed again. "Gentlemen must not inquire into the mysteries of
feminine work," said she.

"I know, however, that the thimble did not usually stand high in your
favor," said Fink, good-humoredly. "Is it necessary, dear lady, that you
should ruin your eyes?"

"Yes, Herr von Fink," returned Lenore, firmly, "it is, and it will be
necessary."

"Oh ho!" cried Fink, shaking his head, and comfortably leaning against
the back of a chair. "Do you suppose, then, that I have not long ago
remarked your secret campaigns with needle and scissors, and also your
grave face, and the magnificent bearing you assume toward me, naughty
boy that I am? Where is the panther-sofa? Where is the brotherly
frankness that I have a right to expect