"What? Then the wedding won't be at the house?"
"The wedding won't be—anywhere."
"Kathrien!"
He stared at her, seeking to read grief, humiliation, or, at the very least, the anger engendered of a lovers' quarrel. But her face was serene, even happy. The worry was gone that had lurked behind her gentle eyes. The furrow had been smoothed from the low, white brow, and even the pathetic aura of sorrow that had clung to her as a garment since Peter Grimm's death had departed.
"Kathrien!" he repeated doubtfully, his heart thumping in an unruly fashion that well-nigh choked him.
The serene calm of the girl's face fled beneath his eager, troubled gaze.
"Frederik has gone," she said briefly. "I am not going to marry him. I broke our engagement this evening."
"And you are free—free to——?"
He checked himself, fearful to believe in the marvellous fortune that seemed to have come all at once from the Unattainable into his very grasp. And, girl-like, Kathrien was, of a sudden, panic stricken.
"It is late," she said hastily, "very late. Good-night!"