"Dear Moritz, do not be angry with me for not complying with your suggestions. Indeed, I am rather too big to give you the trouble of coming for me."
He stood astounded. "You are right, Kitty. The time is past when I could lead you by the hand," said he, slowly, as if lost in contemplation of her face, which was bathed in a rosy blush. "Well, you are heartily welcome!" Then, giving his hand to Bruck, he added, "Ah, you met in the hall. I must present you——"
"Don't trouble yourself, Moritz; I have attended to all that," the girl interrupted him. "The Herr Doctor was paying his visit to Susie when I reached the mill."
The councillor's face lengthened. "You went first to the mill then?" he asked, surprised. "But, my dear child, Grandmamma Urach was most amiably ready to receive you, and naturally expected that you would come directly to her, instead of which you have been first to your old flame Susie! Pray say nothing about it within," he added, in a hurried whisper.
"Do you seriously desire that I should not?" The firm clear, girlish tone contrasted strangely with his timid whisper. "I cannot deny it if I should be questioned. I really do not understand concealment, Moritz——" She paused a moment, startled at the sudden flush that overspread his face, but concluded resolutely, "If I have done wrong, I will confess it: it cannot cost me my head."
"Oh, if you take my well-meant hint so tragically, there is nothing more to be said," he replied at once, with some irritation. "It will not cost you your head, to be sure, but it will imperil your position in my house. Just as you please, however. Judge for yourself what success will await your direct 'up-and-down' tongue in our refined circles."
His tone had already changed to playfulness; and, before anything further could be said to alter his amiable mood, he gallantly offered his arm, and conducted her to the former dining-hall, adjoining the conservatory, and opened the door.
Here was no longer the pleasant dining-room, with its comfortable old-fashioned leather-covered furniture. The wall that had once separated it from the conservatory had disappeared, and in its place slender pillars upheld the arched ceiling, which was painted with brilliant colours, after the Moorish style. Below, a grating of delicate gilt-bronze tracery ran from pillar to pillar, separating the mosaic floor of the Moorish room from the white sand and green sod of the conservatory. Behind this grating there was a wealth of greenery and bloom: tufts of May-flower and Parma violets grouped about the feet of dark laurels, and dragon-trees, with hosts of metallic-leaved decorative plants,—all this embowered, framed in, as it were, by the pillars, around which were twined clematis-vines, that wreathed with white and lilac flowers the slender shafts up to the graceful arches they supported.
Between the two centre pillars Flora was standing, still in her driving-dress, apparently on the point of leaving the room. The fountain in the conservatory showed its silver spray just above the plumes in her hat. One small gloved hand lifted the heavy brown velvet skirt, which the evening light tinged with faint gold, while the other, from which the glove had been withdrawn, rested lightly upon the pillar beside her, as delicate and fair as the white clematis flower that hung beside it.
As Kitty entered, she first opened her blue eyes wide with astonishment, then half dropped the lids in a keen, inquiring glance, while a sarcastic smile hovered upon her lips.