"My father is out," she said, with downcast eyes and trembling voice, "will you take a chair?"
The lieutenant remained standing before her, and looked at her long and affectionately. Then he raised her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss upon it.
Blushing deeply, she tried to draw her hand away; he held it with gentle force.
"I am so very glad to find you alone," he said; "I have wanted so long to ask you something I am not quite sure about."
She raised her eyes to his with surprise and enquiry, she wished to speak, but she found no words.
"Helena," he said, in a low voice, "when I was wounded and ill in Langensalza, without strength enough to think clearly, dizzy with fever, a sweet image was always before me,--I saw a consoling angel looking at me so kindly, so lovingly,--I held her helping hand in mine, I pressed it to my lips, and from the depths of my heart I said, 'dear Helena.'"
She withdrew her hand quickly, and seated herself on the chair near the window; pale and trembling, her eyes sought the ground.
He went up to her and continued in urgent terms:
"Tell me,--for sometimes a gloomy veil comes over my memory,--tell me, this image that never leaves my heart, that follows me everywhere--was it real?"
She gave no answer, but sat still and motionless.