Suddenly Erna said, "And you have told nobody all this?"
"No," he answered; and it cost him a curious struggle to get the one brief word--out.
They passed through the tiny gate; it was almost dark in the yard now. Before the entrance to the house stood a large open travelling carriage; servants were removing the belongings of the travellers who had already alighted. Through the main gate, on the opposite side, a cart, laden with the heavier articles of luggage, was entering.
"Uncle Bertram," whispered Erna.
Just as they were about to cross the threshold of the tiny gate she had seized his hand with gentle pressure. He had involuntarily stopped. Again she was gazing up at him, but not now, as before in the wood, with a stern expression. Was it a reflection of the radiance of the young moon, just then rising above the gloom which was enfolding the buildings around--or could it be tears that glistened in the great eyes?
"You want to leave us, Uncle Bertram?"
"Who told you so?"
"It matters not. You want to leave us?"
"Yes."
"Stay! Pray, stay--for my sake!"