nd quietly, from under the
dark lashes, over the young face.

"I did not speak either; what would there have been to say? I went away
to look for Anna Maria as soon as I saw that Susanna was coming to
herself, and left it to Isa to put the compresses on the wounded temple.

"I found Anna Maria in the sitting-room, in her chair, with her
spinning-wheel before her, as on every evening, but her hands lay
wearily in her lap, and her eyes were cast down. As I came nearer she
started up and began to spin; her foot rested heavily on the frail
treadle, her hands trembled nervously as they drew the threads, and her
face was fearfully white and her lips tightly closed, as if no friendly
word were ever to pass them again in the course of her life.

"'Anna Maria,' said I, stopping in front of her, 'what now?'

"She did not answer.

"'You have let yourself be carried away,' I continued. 'How will it be
now between you and Klaus?'

"Again she made no reply, but the treadle of the spinning-wheel broke in
two with a snap; she sprang up, and pushed back the stretchers. 'Leave
me, leave me,' she begged, putting her hand to her forehead.

"'Write to Klaus; tell him he must come,' I advised. She sat down again,
and leaned her head on her hand. 'I will bring you paper and ink, Anna
Maria, or shall I write?'

"She shook her head. 'Do not torment me,' she wailed; 'I no longer know
if I am in my senses; leave me alone!'

"I still lingered; she looked fearfully. Her face was so pale and
distorted one could scarcely recognize the blooming, girlish
countenance. 'Go,' she begged; it is the only thing that you can do for
me.'

"I went; no doubt she was right. In such an hour it is torment even to
breathe in the sight of others. But why did she not fly to her room? I
turned around once more at the stairs; I wanted to ask her to drink a
glass of lemonade, and go to bed. The sitting-room was dark, but through
the crack of the door which led to Klaus's room came a ray of
candle-light; she was in there.

"Two days had passed since that evening, and Anna Maria continued to go
about without speaking. At dinner she had sat at the table, but had
eaten nothing, and she wandered about for hours through the garden, in
rain and storm. Brockelmann insisted upon it, with tears, that I ought
to send for the doctor, for her young lady was bent upon doing something
which, she thought, pointed to the beginning of a disease of the mind.
Anna Maria was no