But this train of thought was not one to be encouraged. "I am keeping you here talking," she said, resuming her first cheerfulness, "and your things are not unpacked yet. I shall go and scold Marie for not coming when you rang, and I'll send her to you." And she went out quickly, vexed with herself for feeling chilled, and left the baroness more full of doubts than ever.
When she had rebuked Marie, who looked gloomy, she tapped at Frau von Treumann's door. No one answered. She knocked again. No one answered. Then she opened the door softly and looked in.
These were precious moments, she felt, these first moments of being alone with each of her new friends, precious opportunities for breaking ice. It is true she had not been able to break much of the ice encasing the baroness, but she was determined not to be cast down by any of the little difficulties she was sure to encounter at first, and she looked into Frau von Treumann's room with fresh hope in her heart.
What, then, was her dismay to find that lady walking up and down with the long strides of extreme excitement, her face bathed in tears.
"Oh—what's the matter?" gasped Anna, shutting the door quickly and hurrying in.
Frau von Treumann had not heard the gentle taps, and when she saw her, started, and tried to hide her face in her handkerchief.
"Tell me what is the matter," begged Anna, her voice full of tenderness.
"Nichts, nichts," was the hasty reply. "I did not hear you knock——"
"Tell me what is the matter," begged Anna again, fairly putting her arms round the poor lady. "Our letters have said so much already—surely there is nothing you cannot tell me now? And if I can help you——"
Frau von Treumann freed herself by a hasty movement, and began to walk up and down again. "No, no, you can do nothing—you can do nothing," she said, and wept as she walked.