ordinary he looked!--``marrying another--a merchant like my
father. They think only of what is practical. I'm so afraid
they won't understand--US.''

Feuerstein sighed--the darkness prevented her from seeing that he
was also frowning with impatience and irritation.

``But it must be settled at once, my heart's bride,'' he said
gently. ``Secrecy, deception are horrible to me. And I am mad
to claim you as my own. I could not take you without their
consent--that would be unworthy. No, I could not grieve their
honest hearts!''

Hilda was much disturbed. She was eminently practical herself,
aside from her fondness for romance, which Mr. Feuerstein was
developing in a way so unnatural in her surroundings, so foreign
to her education; and she could see just how her father would
look upon her lover. She feared he would vent plain speech that
would cut Mr. Feuerstein's sensitive soul and embattle his
dignity and pride against his love. ``I'll speak to them as soon
as I can,'' she said.

``Then you will speak to them to-morrow or next day, my treasure,
and I shall see you on Sunday afternoon.''

``No--not Sunday afternoon. I must stay at home--father has
ordered it.''

``Disappointment--deception-- postponement!'' Feuerstein struck
his hand upon his brow and sighed tragically. ``Oh, my little