’No, she has not come.  I knew she wouldn’t; and it was nonsense to send the horses out such a night as this,’ Frank said, sternly, with a mistaken notion that he must speak sharply to the unfortunate man, who, if rightly managed, was gentle as a child.

‘Not come!  Gretchen not come!  There must be some mistake!’ Arthur said, all the brightness fading from his face, which seemed to grow pinched and pallid as he turned it piteously toward his brother and continued:  ’Not come!  Oh, Frank! did John say so?  Was no one there?  Let me go and question him—­there must be a mistake.’

He was hurrying toward the door, when Frank caught his arm and detained him, while he said, decidedly: 

’No use to see John.  Can’t you believe me when I tell you no one was there—­and I knew there would not be.  It was folly to send.’

For a moment a pale, haggard face, which looked still more haggard and pale with the firelight flickering over it, confronted Frank steadily; then the lips began to quiver, and the eyelids to twitch, while great tears gathered in Arthur’s eyes, until at last, covering his face with his hands, he staggered to the couch, and throwing himself upon it, sobbed convulsively.

‘Oh, Gretchen, my darling!’ he said.  ’I was so sure, and now everything is swept away, and I am left so desolate.’

Frank had never seen grief just like this, and, with his conscience pricking him a little for the deception he had practised, he found himself pitying his brother as he had never done before; and when at last the latter cried out loud, he went to him, and laying his hand gently upon his bowed head, said to him, soothingly: 

’Don’t, Arthur; don’t feel so badly.  It is terrible to see a man cry as you are crying.’

‘No, no; let me cry,’ Arthur replied.  ’The tears do me good, and my brain would burst without them.  It is all on fire, and my head is aching so hard again.’

At this moment Charles appeared, asking if his master would have dinner served.  But Arthur could not eat, and the table which had been arranged with so much care for Gretchen was cleared away, while Gretchen’s chair was moved back from the fire and Gretchen’s footstool put in its place, and nothing remained to show that she had been expected except the pretty dress, with its accessories, which lay upon Arthur’s bed.  These he took care of himself, folding them with trembling hands and tear-wet eyes, as a fond mother folds the clothes her dead child has worn, sorrowing most over the half-worn shoes, so like the dear little feet which will never wear them again.  So Arthur sorrowed over the high-heeled slippers, with the blue rosettes and pointed toes, fashionable in Paris at that time.  Gretchen had never worn them, it is true, but they seemed so much like her that his tears fell fast as he held them in his hands, and, dropping upon the pure white satin, left a stain upon it.

When everything was put away and the long trunk locked again, Arthur went back to the couch and said to his brother, who was still in the room: