The lad opened his eyes, heavy with sleep, and said, "I am so glad you waked me! I was having a horrible dream that you were being torn to pieces by a furious leopard."
"You foolish boy!"
"Oh, it was no joke, I can tell you!" Then, pulling his brother down to him, he went on, "Zdena took the revolver to you, I saw her through the keyhole; not one of the others would have raised a finger for you. No, there is no one in the world like our Zdena." Vips stroked his brother's blue sleeve with his long, slender hand. "Do you know," he whispered very softly, "I have no doubt that----"
Harry frowned, and Vips blushed, shut his eyes, and turned his face to the wall.
The first gleam of morning was breaking its way through the twilight; a rosy glow illumined the eastern horizon; the stream began to glimmer, and then shone like molten gold; long shadows detached themselves from the universal gray and stretched across the garden among the dewy flower-beds. The dew lay everywhere, glistening like silvery dust on the blades of grass, and dripping in the foliage of the old apricot-tree by the open window at which Harry stood gazing sadly out into the wondrous beauty of the world. The cool morning breeze fanned his check; the birds began to twitter.
The young fellow was conscious of the discomfort of a night spent without sleep; but far worse than that was the hopeless misery that weighed him down.
Hark! what was that? The sound of bells, the trot of horses on the quiet road. Harry leaned forward. Who was that?
Leaning back in an open barouche, a gray travelling-cap on his head, a handsome old man was driving along the road.
"Father!" exclaimed Harry.
The old gentleman saw him from the carriage and waved his hand gaily. In a twinkling Harry was opening the house-door.