“It is—­it is—­love!” and he sank upon his knees before her, where, she could not but notice, he looked very handsome in the subdued light of the room, with his upturned face blanched by sickness, and his southern glowing eyes.  “Elsa, I love you and no other, and unless you return that love my heart will break and I shall die.”

Now, under ordinary circumstances, Elsa would have been quite competent to deal with the situation, but the fear of over-agitating Adrian complicated it greatly.  About the reality of his feelings at the moment, at any rate, it seemed impossible to be mistaken, for the man was shaking like a leaf.  Still, she must make an end of these advances.

“Rise, Heer Adrian,” she said gently, holding out her hand to help him to his feet.

He obeyed, and glancing at her face, saw that it was very calm and cold as winter ice.

“Listen, Heer Adrian,” she said.  “You mean this kindly, and doubtless many a maid would be flattered by your words, but I must tell you that I am in no mood for love-making.”

“Because of another man?” he queried, and suddenly becoming theatrical again, added, “Speak on, let me hear the worst; I will not quail.”

“There is no need to,” replied Elsa in the same quiet voice, “because there is no other man.  I have never yet thought of marriage, I have no wish that way, and if I had, I should forget it now when from hour to hour I do not know where my dear father may be, or what fate awaits him.  He is my only lover, Heer Adrian,” and as Elsa spoke her soft brown eyes filled with tears.

“Ah!” said Adrian, “would that I might fly to save him from all dangers, as I rescued you, lady, from the bandits of the wood.”

“I would you might,” she replied, smiling sadly at the double meaning of the words, “but, hark, your mother is calling us.  I know, Heer Adrian,” she added gently, “that you will understand and respect my dreadful anxiety, and will not trouble me again with poetry and love-talk, for if you do I shall be—­angry.”

“Lady,” he answered, “your wishes are my law, and until these clouds have rolled from the blue heaven of your life I will be as silent as the watching moon.  And, by the way,” he added rather nervously, “perhaps you will be silent also—­about our talk, I mean, as we do not want that buffoon, Foy, thrusting his street-boy fun at us.”

Elsa bowed her head.  She was inclined to resent the “we” and other things in this speech, but, above all, she did not wish to prolong this foolish and tiresome interview, so, without more words, she took her admirer by the hand and guided him down the stairs.

It was but three days after this ridiculous scene, on a certain afternoon, when Adrian had been out for the second time, that the evil tidings came.  Dirk had heard them in the town, and returned home well-nigh weeping.  Elsa saw his face and knew at once.

“Oh! is he dead?” she gasped.