“What is that?” he cried.
After a few seconds’ silence a soft voice replied:
“Charlotte, Charlotte—it is I!”
Zacharias trembled; and as he listened with ears on the alert for each sound, the foliage on the trellis struck against the window and a figure climbed up quietly—oh so quietly—then stopped and stared into the room.
The old man being indignant at this, rose and opened the window, upon which the stranger climbed through noiselessly.
“Do not be frightened, Charlotte,” he said, “I have come to tell you some good news. My father will be here tomorrow.”
He received no response, for the reason that Zacharias was trying to light the lamp.
“Where are you, Charlotte?”
“Here I am,” cried the old man turning with a livid face and gazing fiercely at his rival.
The young man who stood before him was tall and slender, with large, frank, black eyes, brown cheeks, rosy lips, just covered with a little moustache, and a large brown, felt hat, tilted a little to one side.