"Mrs. Cruger presents her compliments to Herr Von Barwig, and regrets to inform him that unexpected circumstances have arisen which will obviate the necessity of his calling upon her in regard to her nieces' studies."
"Very well," he said to himself, as he folded up the letter. "I shall have more time to think of her," and he went to bed and slept peacefully.
A week elapsed. Each day he had patiently gone uptown to Miss Stanton's house. He had started out full of hope and returned home in despair. On each occasion he had been informed by Mr. Joles that Miss Stanton was out, that she had left no message for him, and that he did not know when she would return. Finally he wrote to her and waited patiently for an answer; but there was no word. The old man's hope of seeing her again gradually grew smaller and smaller until at last the old feeling of dull despair, the old gnawing pain of unsatisfied affection came back to him again. "I am doomed," he thought; "doomed to live my life alone!" He would sit for hours and hours and try to think out why she did not see him, why she did not answer his letter. Was she away? If so, why did she not let him know? Had she found out that he played in a Bowery museum? Or did she suspect that he knew that she did not need lessons? If so, was that sufficient cause for her neglect? No, he could not reason it out on those lines! Why did Mrs. Cruger send him a note dismissing him after practically promising to engage him as music master to her nieces? Did Mrs. Cruger dismiss him at all, or had circumstances arisen that obviated the necessity of engaging him? Was it merely a coincidence that she should dismiss him at the same time that Hélène avoided seeing him? Were these two conditions in any way connected with each other? Was Hélène really trying to avoid him? Had she received his letter? Did she really know? This last question gave him much comfort and he persistently dwelt on that phase of the situation. To believe that she knew; it was inconceivable to him. She would surely have written. "Did I address the letters properly? Did I put stamps on?" he asked himself. "There is a mistake somewhere," he concluded; "a mistake that time will surely adjust."
The next day, after going through the usual performance of asking for Miss Stanton and being informed by Mr. Joles of the young lady's absence, Von Barwig ventured to extend the field of his inquiry.
"Is Mr. Stanton in?" he asked in a low voice, scarcely knowing why he should ask for her father, or what he should say if he was fortunate enough to obtain an interview with him.
"Mr. Stanton!" repeated Mr. Joles, almost horrified at the idea of Von Barwig's asking for his master.
"Mr. Stanton?" he repeated. "Have you an appointment with him?"
Von Barwig admitted that he had not.
"Mr. Stanton sees no one without an appointment," said Mr. Joles, slowly recovering from the shock Von Barwig had given him. "Besides which, he is at present at Bar Harbour."
"Are you sure there is no message for me?" pleaded Von Barwig.