are unexpected."

And so the conversation went smoothly on with questions and answers.
The ladies sat over their work, and while Reinhard enjoyed the
refreshment that had been prepared for him, Eric had lighted his huge
meerschaum pipe and sat smoking and conversing by his side.

Next day Reinhard had to go out with him to see the fields, the
vineyards, the hop-garden, the distillery. It was all well appointed;
the people who were working on the land or at the vats all had a
healthy and contented look.

For dinner the family assembled in the room that opened into the
garden, and the day was spent more or less in company just according
to the leisure of the host and hostess. Only during the hours
preceding the evening meal, as also during the early hours of the
forenoon, did Reinhard stay working in his own room.

For some years past, whenever he could come across them, he had been
collecting the rhymes and songs that form part of the life of the
people, and now set about arranging his treasure, and wherever
possible increasing it by means of fresh records from the immediate
neighbourhood.

Elisabeth was at all times gentle and kind. Eric's constant attentions
she received with an almost humble gratitude, and Reinhard thought at
whiles that the gay, cheerful child of bygone days had given promise
of a somewhat less sedate womanhood.

Ever since the second day of his visit he had been wont of an evening
to take a walk along the shore of the lake. The road led along close
under the garden. At the end of the latter, on a projecting mound,
there was a bench under some tall birch trees. Elisabeth's mother had
christened it the Evening Bench, because the spot faced westward, and
was mostly used at that time of the day in order to enjoy a view of
the sunset.

One evening Reinhard was returning from his walk along this road when
he was overtaken by the rain. He sought shelter under one of the
linden trees that grew by the water-side, but the heavy drops were
soon pelting through the leaves. Wet through as he was he resigned
himself to his fate and slowly continued his homeward way.

It was almost dark; the rain fell faster and faster. As he drew near
to the Evening Bench he fancied he could make out the figure of a
woman dressed in white standing among the gleaming birch tree trunks.
She stood motionless, and, as far as he could make out on approaching
nearer, with her face turned in his direction, as if she was expec