It was curious to see how differently the two women nearest to Dietrich were affected by this trouble.  Gertrude’s countenance gradually resumed its customary look of cheerfulness and peace, while on Veronica’s handsome features rested a heavy scowl which now seldom left her clouded brow.  Yet she was almost an object of envy to all the young girls of the neighborhood, and no wonder; for she was an attractive sight to all eyes, with her neat, well-fitting clothes, that always looked new and fresh, and her air of strength and activity.  Not a few of the strangers who came to Fohrensee, made inquiries about her, wondering where she could have come from; for they noticed the marked difference between her and the other women of the place.  The work which passed through her hands, even if it were most elaborately embroidered, was never crumpled nor soiled, but looked as fresh as if it had not been handled at all.  She could obtain any price she chose to set upon her work, and everything she did found ready sale.  Moreover, she had been appointed to the place of which Sabina had spoken to her.  She was at the head of the great Industrial School for women, where she received so handsome a salary, that she was in a fair way to the accumulation of a nice little fortune.  It was common to hear it said of her, “She is really a lady! she can have whatever she pleases,” and it was often added, “If I were in her shoes, I wouldn’t go about with a face like a thirty days’ storm, as she does, when she can be a gentleman’s wife whenever she chooses!” It had been proposed that Veronica should go to live in the school-buildings at Fohrensee.  But she did not accept the offer; she could not leave her mother alone in this time of trouble.  Every evening after her work she returned to Gertrude’s cottage.

During the long summer days it was easy for Veronica to get home before the twilight was over.  But when the days grew shorter, dusk came on even before she could reach the wood.  One bright Saturday afternoon, late in August, Veronica had delayed longer than usual in the work-room, to clear all away and leave things in perfect order for Sunday.

She hurried up the hill road, not so much from fear of going through the wood alone, as from desire to spare Gertrude the anxiety of watching for her.  Just before she reached the wood, she met Jost coming towards her.  He held out his hand with a friendly smile, saying,

“I came to meet you; I thought it would be getting too dark for you to go alone through the forest; I can’t let you go unprotected.”

“You may spare yourself the pains,” said Veronica shortly and crossed over to the other side of the road.  Jost crossed too.

“Veronica,” he began after a little while, “it is not nice of you to treat me as you have done since Dietrich went off.  I know as well as you do, that he did wrong in running away from you without letting you know where he went to; but he may write yet, and meantime—­”