ed little wife--with a person of her
character it is the only way to gain her pardon. I will gladly do all
in my power to set this foolish affair before her in the mildest
light--"

"Consideration!" he murmured, "consideration for the family!"

Then he laughed aloud and went on more quickly into the deepening
twilight. What should he do in the house, in the empty rooms, at the
inhospitable table with his heart full of bitterness? Childish, foolish
obstinacy it was in her--and no trust in him! How had he deserved that
she should give him up at once without even hearing him? Well, she
would get over it, she would come again, but--the spell was broken, the
bloom, the freshness was gone.

He must have his rights without regard to the Baumhagen family, or to
her on whom he would not have permitted the winds of heaven to blow too
roughly. She could not have hurt him more, than by giving more credence
to that scoundrel than to him--she who usually was so calm--calm?

He could see her eyes before him now, those eyes in which strong
passion glowed. He had seen them blaze with anger more than once, he
had heard her agitating sobs, her voice husky with emotion as she spoke
of her father. He saw her again as she had been the evening before
their marriage when she pressed his hands passionately to her lips, a
mute eloquent gesture, a thanksgiving for the refuge of his breast. And
now? It had already burned out this passionate love, had failed before
the first trial.

It was already dark when he returned from his walk. Johanna was gone.
The maid whom he met in the corridor told him she had taken her child
and a trunk full of clothing and the books which had been sent to Mrs.
Linden yesterday.

He went to her room; the sweet scent of violets of which she was so
fond pervaded the atmosphere, the afghan on the lounge lay just as it
had fallen when she threw it off as she rose. He could not stay---a
longing for her seized upon him so powerfully that it well-nigh
unmanned him, and he went back to the dining-room. He opened the door
half-unconsciously--there sat the judge at the table, dusty and
dishevelled from his Brocken tour, but contented to his inmost soul.
But--how came this stranger here doing the honors?

The rosy little brunette was just setting the table. She had put on a
white apron over her dark dress, the bib fastened smoothly across her
full bust. She was just depositing with her round arm half-uncovered by
the elbo