ng ways and compared him in her mind with Andor's kindness
and chivalry.

And now she cried with remorse because she had hated him during the last
hours of his life; she cried because he had gone to his death unloved,
and lay now in his coffin unregretted; she cried because her heart was
full and heavy and because in the past week--before her wedding day--she
had swallowed so many unshed tears.

And while she felt miserable and not a little forlorn she didn't want to
see anybody, least of all Andor. Whenever she thought of Andor, the same
remorse about Bela gnawed again at her heart, for when she thought of
him she not only felt at peace, but it seemed as if a ray of happiness
illumined the past darkness of her life.

Once or twice during the last day or two, when she had sat stitching,
she caught herself singing softly to herself, and once she knew for
certain that she had smiled.

Then the day came when Andor called at the house. Irma fortunately was
out, having coffee and gossip with a friend. No doubt he had watched
until he was sure that she was well out of the way. Then he knocked at
the door and entered.

Elsa was sitting as usual on the low chair close by the sick man. She
looked up when he entered and all at once the blood rushed to her pale
cheeks.

"May I come in?" he asked diffidently.

"If you like, Andor," she replied.

He threw down his hat and then came to sit on the corner of the table in
his favorite attitude and as close to Elsa as he dared. The eyes of the
paralytic had faintly lit up at his approach.

"Are you quite well, Elsa?" he asked after a long pause, during which
the girl thought that she could hear the beating of her own heart.

"Yes. Quite well thank you, Andor," she replied softly.

"No one has seen you in the village this past week," he remarked.

"No," she said, "I am not very fond of gossip, and there was a deal too
much of it in Marosfalva this past week to please me."

"You are right there, Elsa," he rejoined, "but there were others in the
village, you know, those who did not gossip--but whose heart would have
been gladdened by a sight of you."

"Yes, Andor," she murmured.

We may take it that the young man found these laconic answers distinctly
encouraging, for presently he said abruptly:

"Perhaps, Elsa, it isn't right for me to begin talking to you . . .
about certain matters . . ."

"What matters, Andor?" she asked ingenuously.

"Matters which have lain next