"It may be true--of course, and I am sure that it once was, or something like it, but I do not believe he has any chance of getting his own after so long." "I cannot think of it--in either way.

If it is all an old forgotten tale which he believes in still-why then, he is mad.

Is it not dreadful to see?
So quiet and sensible all the week, and then, on Tuesday night, his farewell speech to us all--every Tuesday--and his disappointment the next day, and then a new week begun without any recollection of it all! It is breaking my heart, Herr Schmidt!" "Indeed, poor Vjera, you look as though it were." "And yet, and yet--I do not know.

I think that if it were one day to turn out true--then my heart would be quite broken, for he would go away, and I should never see him again." Accustomed as she was to daily association with the man who was walking by her side, knowing his good heart and feeling his sympathy, it is small wonder that the lonely girl should have felt impelled to unburden her soul of some of its bitterness.

If her life had gone on as usual, undisturbed by anything from without, the confessions which now fell from her lips so easily would never have found words.