"Who are you?" she asked, not seeing the face, which was in shadow.
"Heinrich. You know poor Heinrich, do you not? I know you are Margaret Byrckmann, now that you have spoken. I know your voice, for it has always spoken so kindly to poor Heinrich."
The voice was a man's, and yet there was so much of the child in it.
"Why are you here, Heinrich?" Margaret asked, going close to the window and putting up her hand to touch his, for the sake of the companionship after that long spell of loneliness. It was something to have this man, or this boy—this boy in a man's strong frame—near to her. She waited for his answer, wondering whether he had brought any message from her father or Herman.
"I was in the cavern and saw them take you away. They carried you because you were senseless, so I heard one of the Familiars say. I tried to stop them, thinking I might get you out of their hands, and I lay in their way across the dark path. Not seeing me, they stumbled over me and fell. Oh, how they cursed me!
"I did not do that again, for I thought that another fall would hurt you, lame you, perhaps; but I followed to see where they put you, but when once they carried you through their private door I could discover no more, for they locked me out. But I meant to find out. I have been trying to do so all these days and nights. I have gone from window to window, and now, God be praised! I have found you! Let me kiss your hand—that beautiful hand that never did me anything but kindness!"
He bent his lips to her fingers and kissed them passionately.
"Why have you come, Heinrich? Have you brought me a message from anyone?" Margaret asked, hoping that he would mention Herman's name.
"No. I have not left this accursed house, save to run home for something to eat and drink, and I have brought this."
He drew something out of his bosom, and laid its rough surface on Margaret's soft hand.