n. That is so nice. Do sit
down! My niece will soon be here."

Greta came running back.

"Will you come, please?" she said. "Chris is ready."

Gulping down his coffee, the stranger included them all in a single bow,
and followed her.

"Ach!" said Herr Paul, "garcon tres chic, celui-la!"

Christian was standing by her little table. The stranger began.

"I am sending Mr. Harz's things to England; there are some pictures
here. He would be glad to have them."

A flood of crimson swept over her face.

"I am sending them to London," the stranger repeated; "perhaps you could
give them to me to-day."

"They are ready; my sister will show you."

Her eyes seemed to dart into his soul, and try to drag something from
it. The words rushed from her lips:

"Is there any message for me?"

The stranger regarded her curiously.

"No," he stammered, "no! I guess not. He is well.... I wish...." He
stopped; her white face seemed to flash scorn, despair, and entreaty on
him all at once. And turning, she left him standing there.

XXVIII

When Christian went that evening to her uncle's room he was sitting up
in bed, and at once began to talk. "Chris," he said, "I can't stand this
dying by inches. I'm going to try what a journey'll do for me. I want
to get back to the old country. The doctor's promised. There's a shot
in the locker yet! I believe in that young chap; he's stuck to me like
a man.... It'll be your birthday, on Tuesday, old girl, and you'll be
twenty. Seventeen years since your father died. You've been a lot to
me.... A parson came here today. That's a bad sign. Thought it his duty!
Very civil of him! I wouldn't see him, though. If there's anything
in what they tell you, I'm not going to sneak in at this time o' day.
There's one thing that's rather badly on my mind. I took advantage of
Mr. Harz with this damned pitifulness of mine. You've a right to look at
me as I've seen you sometimes when you thought I was asleep. If I hadn't
been ill he'd never have left you. I don't blame you, Chris--not I!
You love me? I know that, my dear. But one's alone when it comes to the
run-in. Don't cry! Our minds aren't Sunday-school books; you're finding
it out, that's all!" He sighed and turned away.

The noise of sun-blinds being raised vibrated through the house. A
feeling of terror seized on the girl; he lay so still, and yet the
drawing of each breath was a fight. If she could only suffer in his
place! She went close,