"Elene, Elene!" he murmured, "you have come to take me away from this place. Oh, God, I hope I never wake up!"
The figure now stretched out its arms, and seemed to be handing Von Barwig a bunch of flowers. The old man's eyes were fully opened now, and, as he gazed up, he recognised the face of his beloved pupil. Then he knew that he was not sleeping. The dreaming and waking process had probably occupied but a few seconds of time, but it seemed to Von Barwig to have lasted many hours. Hélène was looking down at him now as he sat there, her great blue eyes suffused with tears. She beamed tenderness and love upon him and her outstretched hand held a bunch of orange blossoms.
"You didn't seek me out to-day, so I came to you," she said in a low, tender voice. "I have brought you my orange blossoms!"
Von Barwig did not speak. Another figure now outlined itself to his vision and became flesh and blood—the figure of Beverly Cruger.
It seemed to Von Barwig that young Mr. Cruger looked pale and anxious.
"What does he know?" the old man asked himself. "Is he here to find out?" and in that moment he determined to keep his secret.
Hélène waited for Von Barwig to speak, but he remained silent.
"You must think it strange that I should call upon you to-day of all days," she said, shaking her head sadly, "and that I should bring my—my husband with me." She looked around at Beverly and he smiled approvingly. "But I am going away, Herr Von Barwig, and it would be very sad if we never met again; wouldn't it?"
Von Barwig still looked at her sadly, smilingly, but did not speak.
"I feel," she went on sadly, "I always have felt that you never meant to see me again." Von Barwig nodded; he dared not trust himself to speak now.