Something like that did Lula feel when she went to Malinka's chamber after Pelski's visit. She needed to confess to some one all that lay on her heart.
Malinka was sitting near the window. In the twilight, on the darkened panes, could be seen her mild, thoughtful little face. All at once Lula's arms were clasped around her neck.
"Is that thou, Lula?" asked she, in a low voice.
"I, Malinka!" answered Lula.
She was sitting on a small stool near Malinka'a feet; she put her head on her knees.
"My kind Malinka, thou art not angry with me now, and dost not despise me?"
Malinka fondled her like a child.
"I was very much to blame as thou seest, but in my own heart I have found myself to-day. How pleasant it is for me here near thee! As formerly we talked long and often let it be so to-day! Art thou willing?"
Malinka smiled half sadly, half jestingly, and answered,—
"Let it be so to-day, but later it will change. A certain 'His grace' will come and take Lula away, and I shall be left alone."
"But will he come?" inquired Lula, in a very low whisper.
