"There is Bertha, at last," she exclaimed, rising hastily, and approaching the door. "Do you not see her blue dress yonder through the trees? Bertha! Bertha!" and, leaving Maurice, she went forth to meet Bertha.
"Where have you hidden yourself all the morning, little truant? Why! what has happened to distress you? Your eyes look as though you had been weeping. Dear Bertha! what ails you?"
"I could not bear it any longer," almost sobbed Bertha, laying her head upon her cousin's shoulder. "I could not help coming to you, though I wanted to act entirely upon my own responsibility, and I had determined not even to consult you, for I am always fearful of getting you into trouble with my aunt."
Madeleine was so completely mystified that she could only murmur half to herself, "More enigmas! What can they mean?"
Then, passing her arm around Bertha's slender waist, they walked to the summer-house. The position of Bertha's head caused her bright ringlets completely to veil her face, and it was not until after she entered the châlet, and shook the blinding locks from before her eyes, that she saw Maurice. She drew back with a movement of vexation and confusion never before evinced at his presence,—clung to Madeleine as though for protection, and seemed on the point of bursting into tears.
"Maurice came here expecting to find you with me," observed Madeleine. "He wanted to speak to you."
"Did he?—yes, I know he did. I know what he is going to say; I kept out of his way on purpose, until I could make up my mind about it all; I mean, I thought it best to postpone; but it does not matter,—I would rather have it over; no,—I don't mean that,—I mean"—
Bertha's perturbation rendered any clearer expression of her meaning out of the question.
Madeleine took up the dress, which Maurice had flung upon the table, and said, "When you return to the house, Bertha, will you not come to my room and try on your dress? It is just completed."
"Stay, stay, Madeleine!" exclaimed Bertha and Maurice together.