CHAPTER II
“O Freude, habe Acht!
Sprich leise,
Dass nicht der Schmerz erwacht!”
It was late on the afternoon of the day that Helen's father had left for home, and David was going into the village with some letters to mail. Helen was not feeling very well herself and could not go, but she insisted upon his going, for she watched over his exercise and other matters of health with scrupulous care. She had wrapped him up in a heavy overcoat, and was kneeling beside his chair with her arms about him.
“Tell me, dear,” she asked him, for the third or fourth time, “are you sure this will be enough to keep you warm?—for the nights are so very cold, you know; I do not like you to come back alone anyway.”
“I don't think you would be much of a protection against danger,” laughed David.
“But it will be dark when you get back, dear.”
“It will only be about dusk,” was the reply; “I don't mind that.”
Helen gazed at him wistfully for a minute, and then she went on: “Do you not know what is the matter with me, David? You frightened me to-day, and I cannot forget what you said. Each time that it comes to my mind it makes me shudder. Why should you say such fearful things to me?”