es), she would have been told to pack
her trunk.

This phase of feeling lasted about three weeks. Then the unfailing
charm of Miss Jones's affability began once more to assert itself.
Roeschen was seized with a sudden desire to kiss her; for she looked so
irresistibly cool and lovely as she sat at the breakfast-table sipping
her coffee, and propounding her neat little German sentences, which
were always correct, though with a faint flavor of "Otto." Roeschen
felt positive that those calm, intelligent eyes of Miss Jones's read
them all like a book; and instead of being indignant at such
presumption, Roeschen grew repentant. She yearned to fling herself at
Miss Jones's feet and confess all her wickedness. She would wear
white, with a single red rose in her bosom like _La Sonnambula_. When
she thought of all the heroines of history and romance who had
renounced the men they loved, she too felt that she could rise to a
like heroism in renouncing the man she didn't love; for she did not,
for one moment, deceive herself in regard to her sentiment for Grover.
It was the engaged state she had been in love with; and he was merely
a lay figure, convenient for the occasion--a puppet with whom she
enacted the scenes appropriate to the engaged condition.

She was yet pondering the problem, but had not yet nerved herself for
action, when one day she was startled at the sound of Grover's voice
in the hall. He handed his card to the girl and inquired for the Frau
Professorin. There was a council of war on the spot, and the Frau
Professorin sent word that she was "not at home." Grover then asked
permission to see "the young ladies." It was a very disappointing
message; the plural number was especially disheartening. The sisters,
however, were equal to the occasion. Minchen and Gretchen nobly
declared that they were "out." Accordingly there was nothing to do,
except for Roeschen to receive the visitor. She donned her white
muslin, stuck a Jacqueminot rose in her bosom, and entered the
drawing-room with a quaking heart. The young man shook hands with her
without the faintest trace of embarrassment, and begged her to have
the kindness to present his "adieux" to the family, as he had
concluded to continue his studies in Berlin.

"And you are going to leave Leipsic!" she exclaimed, in astonishment.

"Naturally," he replied: "I leave to-night."

Roeschen's heart thumped as if it meant to work its way out through her
ribs.

"Now or nev