“If I served you rightly,” said Katrine,“I should go back to my room, and not tell you a single word.”
“But you won’t. Who was it? Carl Anselm?”
“Be careful! It was Bainbridge.”
“I knew he was here. Did he say any thing about Willie?”
“He told me to bid you rise, and be at your lattice in half an hour, for Willie Barlow would then be there.”
Theresa clasped her hands in fervent thanksgiving.
“You have brought glad tidings, dear Katrine,” she said. “Sit with me until he comes. Ah, what is he doing in this frightful storm?”
“It is enough that he is here. You should have seen poor Boston. Wet—oh, so wet! Like one drownded cat.”
The two sat with clasped hands until a tap came at the lattice. Theresa rose and opened it softly.
“Who is it?” she whispered.