But while she walked back to the farm, she did not once raise her eyes from the ground. She could not. And what annoyed her most of all was that she had told Stasi: "He's the best friend I have."

They expected her to tell about her visit, but all she could say was:

"Don't ask me to tell you what great folks are. If I were to begin I couldn't get through before to-morrow, and I've got to go, or it'll be dark before we get home."

Walpurga became quieter and sadder, the more Stasi and her husband praised Doctor Gunther. She dared not tell what had happened to her. This is all you get, thought she, if you depend on the respect which others are to show you. Long after she had left them, Stasi and her husband spoke of how strange and changeable Walpurga was. But she was glad that she was no longer obliged to look any one in the face. And now, at this late day, she was reminded of something that she had long since forgotten. "Oh, dear mother!" said she aloud to herself. "You were right. Everything in this world must be paid for, and now the gold is to be paid for--but how?"

She seated her child upon her lap as though it was all that was left to her. She hugged and kissed it and, at last, it fell asleep, resting upon her heart. She grew calmer, although she keenly felt the wrong that had been done her, and wondered what might yet be in store for her. When, while in her old home, the envy and enmity of the villagers had annoyed her, she could easily console herself with the fact that they were simple, ignorant people; but what could she say now? Was she to experience her old troubles over again? And there was no one to whom she could confide them; her mother was gone; she could not tell Hansei and, least of all, Irmgard.

It was twilight when she at last caught a glimpse of home. Mustering up all her courage, she said to herself:

"The best thing I can do is to let suspicion rest on me until I die, or till she dies; for then no one will come near us, and I needn't have any fear for my dear Irma, who has far more to bear than I have. Thank God, I didn't betray my secret; and how lucky it is, she's now going up into the wilds where no one will find her."

Full of courage, she went into the house and told Hansei of her visit to Stasi, but nothing more.

"I have borne it alone, thus far," said she to herself. "I'll do so, hereafter."

With great self-command, she assumed a cheerful air while with Hansei and Irma, and romped with her boy, for whom she had bought a little wooden horse.