He had put his arm around Anna Maria, who stood at the table, looking toward the window as if listening for something, and looked lovingly in her face.
The brother and sister resembled each other unmistakably in their features, except that beside his earnestness a winning kindness spoke from the brother's eyes, and the harsh lines about his mouth were hidden by a handsome beard.
"Yes," she replied quietly.
"Now tell me, little sister, why you were so—so, what shall I call it—icy toward Stürmer?"
Anna Maria looked over at her brother and was silent.
"Now out with it!" he said jokingly. "Didn't Stürmer treat you with sufficient deference, or——"
"Klaus!" She grew very red. "I will tell you," she then said; "the recollections of old times came between us and spoke louder than words; my childhood passed before my eyes, and—" She broke off, and looked up at him; it was a sad look, yet full of unspeakable gratitude. Klaus drew her to him, and pressed the fair head to his breast with his large white hand.
"My old lass, you're not going to cry?" he asked tenderly; but he, too, was moved.
She took his hand and pressed a kiss upon it. "Dear, dear Klaus," she said softly, "I was only thinking how it would have been if you had not loved me so very, very much?"
Klaus von Hegewitz was silent, and looked thoughtfully down at her. "Quite different, my little Anna Maria," said he at last; "it would have been quite different—whether better? Who can fathom that; it must have been so——"