“Heaven help us! and why?” cried the young maiden, seriously alarmed at this declaration.

“Why?  Because, feeling as I do, knowing that Toni has no place in my heart, it would be wrong to lead her to the altar.  Because I know now what is the one thing needful to make a happy marriage, because,” he stopped and looked at Marietta so steadily and so expressively that she could not fail to understand him.  Her face flushed painfully; she drew back and made a hasty motion as if to prevent further speech.

“Herr von Eschenhagen, tell me no more.”

“I cannot help it,” Willibald continued, almost defiantly.  “I fought it over and over in my own mind when I was alone at Burgsdorf, and honestly tried to keep my word.  I thought it might be possible; then I came here and saw you again—­the other evening in ’Arivana’—­and then I realized that all my struggling had been in vain.  I had not forgotten you, Fraeulein Marietta, no, not for an hour, even while I was trying to persuade myself you must be forgotten, and I should not have forgotten you my whole life long.  I will tell Toni all this frankly, and my mother, too, when I see her again.”

It was all out at last.  The man who could not stand alone at Fuerstenstein, and for whom his mother had done all the talking and planning, spoke now, warmly and earnestly, from his very heart, as only a man can speak in such an hour.  He had learned what liberty meant when his affections were aroused, and with this knowledge he had forever cast aside the dependence of habit and indifference.

He crossed the room to Marietta, who had gone back to the window.

“And now one question.  You were very pale when you opened the door for me, and had been crying.  Of course this affair was very painful to you.  I can understand that, but—­but were you the least bit anxious—­on my account?”

He received no answer.  There was only a low, stifled sob.

“Were you anxious about me?  Only a little ‘yes;’ you cannot know, Marietta, how happy it will make me.”

He bent over the maiden whose head had sunk so low, but he could not see the gleam of happiness which lighted up her face as she said softly:  “I have been so anxious that life has hardly been endurable the past two days.”

Willibald gave a laugh of exultation, and tried to draw her into his arms; she gave him one long look, and then released herself.

“No, no, not now.  Go—­I beg you.”

He stepped back at once.

“You are right, Marietta.  Not now; but when I am free, I shall come to you and beg for another ‘yes.’  Good-bye.  God bless you!”

He was gone in an instant, before Marietta could collect her thoughts; and now the voice of her old kinswoman, who had entered the room a moment before, unperceived by its occupants, recalled her to herself.

“My child, what is this, what does it mean?  Have you both forgotten—­”