“‘But—but I do not understand! You are not well?’
“‘Perfectly, thank you.’
“‘But I am perfectly satisfied: I do not wish to change. You are not sick, then?’
“‘Only of teaching, Fräulein.’
“‘But the instructorship—I was going to recommend—do not be alarmed; you shall have it surely!’
“‘You are very kind, but I have taught long enough.’
“‘Then you do not find another position? Are you to be—’”
Always here her heart sank. Was she? What real basis had all this sweet, disturbing dream? To write so to a man after seven years! It was not decent. She grew satiric. How embarrassing for him to read such a letter in the bosom of an affectionate, flaxen-haired family! At least, she would never know how he really felt, thank Heaven. And what was left for her then? To her
