The young man’s features relaxed their sternness. He turned and followed her into the house, while Franz resumed his post of sentinel at the gate. But this time the puffs of smoke from the china bowl came in fierce, uneven jerks, and an uneasy frown crossed and recrossed his face.
His daughter led Johann inside the house, into the kitchen, where he seated himself on the old-fashioned settle, while she busied herself in getting ready a meal.
“So gentlemen come here from the Castle, do they?” murmured the young man half to himself. “I wonder what is the attraction that brings them here?”
He glanced at his cousin as she moved lightly to and fro in the sunshine. The yellow beams splashed on her rippling hair like rain falling upon running water.
“How old are you by this time, Dorothea?”
“Seventeen next birthday, Johann. I am making myself a dress with long skirts to go to church in.”
“And where did you get that pretty brooch?”
Dorothea smiled with innocent gratification, as she answered—
“Herr Maurice gave it me—one of those gentlemen you saw going away.”
“Ha!” Johann sat up, alert. “Then this is not the first time they have come here?”