"Later, Baby," he murmured somewhat hoarsely, and left the room. But Baby began to cry bitterly, and would not stay in her mother's lap.
After lunch, during which Erwin did not address another word to Elsa, she heard him down in the garden, talking and playing with the little one; she heard Baby's soft happy laugh; she went to the window, stretched out her head, and saw him swinging the child in the air. When Baby was finally weary of play, she laid her little arm around her father's neck, and leaned her delicate flower-like face against his sun-browned cheeks.
Elsa's head ached; she burned with fever from head to foot, every nerve quivered and her thoughts were gloomy. Slowly she dragged herself up and down, finally seated herself with hands clasping her temples, upon a divan. She was losing consciousness when suddenly she started up and listened. She heard Erwin's horse pawing the ground in front of the house. Where was he going so suddenly? She roused herself, and holding to the walls, crept slowly down-stairs. Then, hidden by the turn of the stairs, in the shadow of the hall, she heard Erwin's voice:
"If the Baroness asks for me, Martin, tell her that you do not know where I am; in no case shall she wait dinner for me," said he, quickly and softly.
With that he mounted his horse and rode away at a rapid pace.
Where? Elsa's heart stopped beating. Had anything happened?
She crossed the hall--she would force old Martin to speak; but he had gone also. Then something on the floor rattled, a gray paper which the hem of her dress had touched; she stooped for it--it lay there crumpled as if it had just fallen from a violent hand. She committed no voluntary indiscretion, she only looked at it as one scrutinizes a paper to see whether one shall pick it up or throw it away. It was not her fault that, thanks to the writing, which was as plain as print, at the first glance her eyes had comprehended the whole contents.
Dear Erwin:
Come soon--to-day, now--at once--I expect you.
Linda.