as if it were heartless in her not to feel the departure from
her father's house more. And from her mother? Ah, her mother! Papa had
loved her, very much at one time. Should she go away without one tear,
without one kind motherly word? Gertrude forgot everything in this
blissful moment; she remembered only the good, the time when she was a
happy child and her mother used to kiss her tenderly. She would not go
without a reconciliation.

She rose, gathered up the long train of her wedding-dress and went
across the dusky hall to her mother's chamber. She knocked softly and
opened the door.

Mrs. Baumhagen was standing before the tall mirror in a black moire
antique, with black feathers and lace in her still brown hair. Gertrude
could see her face in the glass; it was covered thick with powder,
which she was just rubbing into her skin with a hare's foot.

Mrs. Baumhagen looked round and gazed at her daughter. She made a
lovely bride, far more imposing than Jenny--and all for that Linden!
She said nothing, she only sighed heavily and turned back to the glass.

"Mamma," began Gertrude, "I wanted to ask you something."

"In a moment."

Gertrude waited quietly till the last touch of the powder-puff had been
laid on the temples, then Mrs. Baumhagen took the long black gloves,
seated herself on a lounge at the foot of her large red-curtained bed,
and began to put them on.

"What do you want, Gertrude?"

"Mamma, what do I want? I wanted to say good-bye to you." She sat down
beside her mother and took her hand.

Mrs. Baumhagen nodded to her. "Yes, we sha'nt see each other for some
time."

"Mamma, are you still angry with me?" asked the girl, hesitatingly, her
eyes filling with tears.

"Forgive me, now," she entreated. "I have been vehement and perverse
sometimes, but--"

"Oh, no matter--don't bring it up now," said her mother. "I only hope
most heartily that you may be happy, and may never repent your
obstinacy and perversity."

"Never!" cried Gertrude with perfect conviction.

Mrs. Baumhagen continued to button her gloves. The room was stifling
with the heavy odors of lavender water and patchouly, and her heavy
silk rustled as she exerted herself to button the somewhat refractory
gloves. She made no reply.

"May I ask one more favor, mamma?"

"Certainly."

The girl involuntarily folded her hands in her lap.

"Mamma, show a little kindness to Linden--do try to like him a
little--make to-day really a day of