"'O dear, no!' she replied, with a suppressed yawn. 'I don't know what to write him; I have no experience, I hear and see nothing.'
"'Well, an engaged girl is not usually at a loss for something to write to the future husband,' I remarked.
"'Indeed?' she asked, absently. 'Yes, it may be, but I—I find it so stupid just to drag out variations of the theme, "I love you."'
"'Klaus has written you, no doubt, Susanna, that you are to be published from the pulpit on Sunday?'
"She started, and stared at me with wide-open, awestruck eyes. 'I don't know,' she stammered, 'I——'
"'But you must know what is in his letter,' I said, impatiently.
"'Yes, I—' She put her hand in her pocket and drew out a letter. 'I haven't read it yet; I was going to this evening—but——'
"'You have not opened the letter yet?' I cried, quite beside myself. 'Well, I must say, this case is unparalleled! You complain of ennui, and yet carry quietly about in your pocket the most interesting thing that can exist for you! The variations on the familiar theme do, indeed, seem tiresome to you, Susanna!'
"I had spoken bitterly and loud. Susanna remained silent, and the same choking feeling of fear came over me as yesterday. I heard the girl sob gently, and was sorry at once for my vehemence.
"'Susanna,' said I, softly, 'you are standing before a very serious turn in your life, and you trifle along like a child!'