"Let us go," she whispered, with a long, shuddering sigh, turning a white face, full of fright, disgust, and pitiful appeal toward me.
"Shall we not wait for your uncle?" I asked.
"Oh, I cannot. Let us go," she repeated, seizing my arm, and clinging convulsively to me.
We walked slowly away, and were soon overtaken by Mr. Pfeifer.
"How do you feel now, child?" he inquired anxiously.
"Oh, I feel—I feel—unclean," she whispered and shuddered again.
VIII.
Two years passed, during which I completely lost sight of Dannevig. I learned that he had been dismissed from the service of the Immigration Company; that he played second violin for a few months at one of the lowest city theatres, and finally made a bold stroke for fame by obtaining the Democratic nomination for County Clerk. I was faithless enough, however, to call attention to the fact that he had never been naturalized, whereupon, a new caucus was called, and another candidate was put into the field.
The Pfeifers I continued to see frequently, and, at last, at Hildegard's own suggestion, told her the story I had so long withheld from her. She showed very little emotion, but sat pale and still with her hands folded in her lap, gazing gravely at me. When I had finished, she arose, walked the length of the room, then returned, and stopped in front of me.