"And now she began, amid streaming tears, to pick out one after another of the garments lying around, and to lay them in a white cloth, and in so doing caught up the little shoe on the table, and pressed the narrow sole to her cheek.
"'Don't forget the little jar of paint,' I whispered, in spite of my sympathy.
"She shook her head. 'No, no, I shall pack up everything. I will do it at once, for if she wakes I cannot say good-by. I shall go before daybreak.'
"I held out my hand to her, for I was sorry for her. 'Go away easy; the child is well off here—and may the thought console you, that it is for Susanna's best good.' I went out, and as I turned again, in closing the door, I saw in the dim light the little gypsy-like creature sitting on the floor, amid all her rubbish and trumpery, and weeping, her face buried in her hands."
CHAPTER VII.
"My first inquiry the next morning was for the old woman. She was gone, I learned, and the Fräulein was already with the stranger in her room. 'Anna Maria's education is beginning,' I said with a sigh, and ate my rye porridge less cheerfully than usual. Yesterday lay behind me like a confused dream, and Susanna's presence in the house oppressed me with the weight of a mountain. Soon I heard Anna Maria's metallic voice in the corridor; she was speaking French, so speaking to Susanna at all events. I caught only a few disconnected words, before she knocked at my door, and came into the room with the young girl.
"'We wish to say good-morning to you, aunt,' she began pleasantly. I gave a searching glance at Susanna; a pair of great tears still hung on her lashes, but the laugh—which was her element—lay hidden in the dimples of her cheeks and shone from her beautiful eyes, as if only waiting an opportunity to break forth.
"She wore her black travelling-dress of yesterday, but Anna Maria had tied a woollen wrap about her shoulders. In spite of that, the sight of her was like a ray of sunshine.
"'I would like to ask, Aunt Rosamond,' said Anna Maria, 'if you have some little duty for Susanna, and beg you to let her profit, in the future, by your skill in needlework. I have been examining her—she can do nothing!'