There was nothing unusual in this. He was in the habit of thus saluting her when she appeared at breakfast and wished him "Good-morning," and hitherto she had received his caress most unconcernedly; while he, her guardian, had but in cool, grave fashion made use of his 'fatherly rights.'
To-day, for the first time, the young girl involuntarily sought to evade it; and Raven felt that the hand he held in his own trembled a little. He drew himself up suddenly, without having touched her forehead with his lips, and dropped her hand.
"You are right," he said, in a troubled voice. "There is a magic in the Nixies' Well. Let us go."
They turned away. Behind them the spring babbled and murmured, the fountain plashed, throwing its white veil of spray ever on high. That cruel doom of destruction was averted now. The beseeching prayer of those brown eyes, and the glittering tears which stood in them, had saved the well.
Perhaps at this moment the cold, stern man, who had long passed the prime of life, may have felt that his boast had been premature, that not even he in his strength was entirely proof against "the nixies' charm."
CHAPTER V.
George Winterfeld sat at his writing-table in his own room. He looked worn, and almost ill. The transient freshness of tint called up by his holiday excursion had long since vanished, and the natural pallor, which had even then been noticeable on the young man's finely cut and intellectual features, had visibly increased. He was, indeed, apt to exact too much of his working powers. The duties of his position made considerable demands on his time, yet in every leisure-hour at his disposal he devoted himself with feverish zeal to such studies as were likely to advance him in his career.
George often worked at the expense of his health; he was urged on by a nobler spur than ambition. Every step he took forward lessened the gap between himself and the woman he loved, and, though possessed of all becoming modesty, he was yet too sensible of his own abilities and his own worth not to cherish an assured hope that one day that gap would be filled up.
His colleagues, who for the most part contented themselves with getting through the business which fell to them in office-hours, knew nothing of the Assessor's quiet, unceasing toil. He never alluded to it. The chief's penetrating eye alone had discovered with what a fund of perseverance, with what genuine talent the young clerk was gifted, though as yet he had had but small opportunity of turning his gifts to active account.
George always worked best in the morning hours. He was sitting to-day bent over a volume of jurisprudence, and so immersed in its arid contents that he did not notice the opening of the outer door which gave access to his apartments. It was only when he heard a familiar voice say: "Don't trouble yourself. I can find my way to Mr. Winterfeld alone," that he started up from his book, just as the newcomer entered.