r one who had
sustained a mortal hurt that was beyond the power of healing. Alas,
that simplicity and uprightness of soul, and the boasted womanly
intuitions, should be such poor safeguards against the wiles of the
serpent! And yet, I knew that to argue with her at this moment would
be worse than vain.

"Fraulein," I said, walking close up to her, and laying my hand
lightly on her arm, "with all my heart I deplore this."

"Pray, do not inconvenience yourself with any such superfluous
emotion," she answered, in a tone, the forced hauteur of which was
truly pathetic. "I wish to hear no accusations of Mr. Dannevig from
your mouth. What he does not choose to tell me himself, I will hear
from no one else."

"I have not volunteered any revelations, Fraulein," I observed.
"Moreover, I see you are posing for your own personal gratification.
You wish to convince yourself of your constancy by provoking an attack
from me. When love has reached that stage, Miss Hildegard, then the
patient is no longer absolutely incurable. Now, to convince you that I
am right, will you have the kindness to look me straight in the eyes
and tell me that there is no shadow of doubt in your heart as to Mr.
Dannevig's truthfulness; that, in other words, you believe that on one
occasion he assumed the attitude of indignant virtue toward me, and in
holy horror rebuked my profligacy. Dare you meet my eye, and tell me
that?"

"Yes," she exclaimed, boldly stepping out into the moonlight, and
meeting my eye with a steady gaze; but slowly and gradually the tears
_would_ gather, her underlip _would_ quiver, and with a sudden
movement she turned around, and burst out weeping.

"Oh, no! I cannot! I cannot!" she sobbed, sinking down upon the green
sod.

I stood long gazing mournfully at her, while the sobs shook her
frame; there was a child-like, hearty _abandon_ in her grief, which
eased my mind, for it told me that her infatuation was not so
hopeless, nor her hurt so great as I had feared.

* * * * *

The next evening when dinner was at an end, Mr. Pfeifer proposed a
walk in the park. Hildegard pleaded a headache, and wished to be
excused.

"Nonsense, child," said Pfeifer, with his usual good-humored
peremptoriness. "If you have a headache, so much the more ought you to
go. Put on your things now, and don't keep us waiting any longer than
you can help."

Hildegard submitted with demure listlessness, and soon re-appea