an
race."

There was a long pause. It was, at last, broken by the father's saying:

"Didn't you come in a court carriage?"

"Certainly."

"And so you intend to return to court?"

"Father, don't let us speak of that, now. I've not, like you, strength
enough to drop from the greatest heights down to the level of every-day
life."

"My child, every-day affairs are the highest that can engage us."

"But I'd like to forget that there is such a thing as a court, or that
I've ever been, or ever shall be, anything but part of your heart and
soul."

"No, you're to live for yourself; but if you wish to remain with me,
all you need do is to send the carriage back."

"I shall have to return, though it be but for a few days. I have only
leave of absence, not a discharge. The best thing would be for you to
go with me and bring me back again."

"I can't go to court, as you well know; and I give you credit for
enough strength to take yourself away from there. I was watching you
to-day while you lay asleep. There's nothing false in you; as yet, no
evil passions cloud your brow. I know your brother is anxious to have
you marry, and I, too, wish that you may become a good wife and mother.
But I fear that you have become too much your own, ever to become
another's. Be that as it may, my child, look at the scene spread out
before you. Myriads of flowers are blooming silent and unknown. Should
a wanderer pass by and feast his eyes upon them, or even pluck a
flower, it has lived for him. Should it blossom and fade away unseen,
it has lived for itself. But, my child, don't go out of your way to
please me. How long is your leave?"

"A fortnight."

"Let us spend the time in truth and cheerfulness, and then act as your
judgment dictates."

CHAPTER X.

The days passed by quickly. Eberhard had little to do with his
neighbors, but was always glad to see the burgomaster of the village,
who was, also, a deputy to the Diet, and to consult with him regarding
the affairs of the community.

Irma spent much of her time alone. She read, embroidered, painted and
sang. After the first few days, a reaction set in.

"What is this life?" she asked herself, "of what use? I work for
dress--dress for my soul and for my body. And to what purpose? The
mirror sees me, the walls hear me, and I have my father for one hour at
noon and another in the evening."

She endeavored to control her flights, and, althou