The young people knelt down before him, and he said, in a low half choking voice:
"God bless and keep you, my dear, dear children!"
The lieutenant was very quiet and thoughtful. His wound was quite healed, his nerves were grown strong again, and the wonderful reparatory powers of youth sent his blood through his veins as quickly as before. He seldom saw Helena: when she came up from the Vicarage she was surrounded by the others, and he could only exchange a few words with her. The old merry confidence between the two friends from childhood would not return; there was something new and strange between them, which closed their lips when it sought expression in words.
One afternoon, when the president was hard at work with Auditor von Bergfeld, and Madame von Wendenstein, her daughters and Margaret were busy in the melancholy occupation of dismantling the house, the lieutenant walked slowly and thoughtfully towards the pastor's.
The roses had withered in the pretty little garden, and the autumnal asters raised their many-coloured heads, overtopped by the tall and brilliant sunflowers.
Helena sat at the open window, and often raised her eyes from her work to look dreamily over the cornfields; her father and the candidate had gone out to make some visits in the village; she was alone with her thoughts.
Suddenly she trembled slightly, a blush spread hastily over her delicate face, she let her work fall into her lap; Lieutenant von Wendenstein had entered the garden, and was approaching the house.
A moment later he knocked at the door of the sitting-room; she made an effort to cry "Come in," and he entered.
He looked delighted when he saw that Helena was alone.
He came to her quickly and took her hand.