"Has Colonel Arlow written to you?"
"No, but perhaps I have learned from another source what you are concealing from me."
Gerald made no reply, but again turned toward the window and seemed to wish to close the conversation. Father Leonhard went up to him and laid his hand on his shoulder.
"Gerald, you have spent little time at home during the last few years, but surely you know that I am no stranger there. Will you not speak freely to your parents' friend, to the priest?"
The question sounded gentle, yet grave and warning, and did not fail to produce an effect. Gerald passed his hand across his brow.
"What am I to say? Do I know myself what it is that oppresses me? I have been driven into doubts, discord with my own nature. Had Edith and her father trusted to my honor, they would not have repented it. The affair was over, and I should have crushed the memory of it like an evil dream--forever!"
"A young girl does not wish merely to trust to her lover's honor in keeping his troth," replied the priest earnestly. "She asks his love, and with perfect justice. Besides, as I understand, the colonel has permitted you to return as soon as you can do so, with a free heart. Have you written to Fräulein Allow?"
"No," said Gerald, in a slow, dreary tone.
"You could not?"
"No, I could not."