Now for the first time he recollected himself. The touching scene had riveted his attention as though by a charm, and the charm had not left him, as he followed the blind girl's movements with breathless attention; mentally he touched each third rail as she did, as though he himself were groping along by the railing, following her light and graceful movements step by step. He waited for her reappearance from behind a white-thorn bush which grew against the railing, and now hid her from his sight, as a sailor waits for the reappearance of a star which he is observing, and which, as he gazes, is for some moments obscured by over-shadowing clouds. But she did not reappear as the moments passed, and the bush seemed to be moving. Perhaps she was trying to gather a branch and could not manage it. In a moment he was through the garden gate and at her side.
A thorn from the bush protruding through the railing had caught hold of the end of her little white apron as it was blown about by the wind, and would not let go, though she patiently exerted all her efforts to extricate it.
"Allow me," said Reinhold.
Before he came up to her she had raised herself from her stooping attitude, and turned her face towards him, which as he spoke was suffused with the loveliest blush. But there was not the slightest trace of embarrassment or terror in the pure features.
"Thank you, Captain Schmidt," said she.
The sweet, melodious tone of her voice harmonised wonderfully with the bright child-like smile that accompanied the words.
"How do you know, Fräulein Cilli, who it is that is speaking to you?" said Reinhold, as he stooped down and freed the light material from the thorn.
"From the same person who told you that my name is Cilli, and that I am blind--from Justus."
"Will you take my arm, Fräulein Cilli, and allow me to see you home? I suppose you live in the house that is just in front of us?"
"I walk safer alone; but give me your hand. May I feel it for a moment?"