castle from view, he saw her cover her face with both her hands and
turn back into the shadow of the deep gateway.

Greif settled himself in his comfortable seat, wondering what it all
meant. It was very strange that Hilda should have so suddenly and so
forcibly expressed the same idea that had agitated his mother a few
days earlier. It was impossible that they could have talked together,
or that they could be thinking of the same thing. There was no sympathy
between them, and besides, if Hilda had learned anything from Frau von
Greifenstein which Greif did not know, she would certainly have told
him of it, especially as this impending catastrophe threatened him as
well as his mother. He was too firmly opposed to all sorts of
superstition to believe that Hilda had received any supernatural
warning of an event about to occur. But for the conversation that had
taken place with his mother, he would unhesitatingly have told himself
that Hilda was yielding to a foolish presentiment raised by the sorrow
of parting. Persons in love are very apt to fancy each separation the
last, and to imagine some dreadful disaster to be in store for the
object of their affections. He flattered himself that his own common
sense was too strong to be shaken by such absurdities, but he owned
that the sensation was a natural one. Without giving way to
presentiments he nevertheless always felt that something might happen
to Hilda before his return, and it was not strange that she should feel
the same anxiety in regard to him. The impulsive expression she had
given to her fear was not in itself surprising, and if she had turned
pale for the first time in her life, it was perhaps because her heart
was really waking to something stronger than that even, emotionless
affection she had hitherto bestowed upon him.

There was a similarity, however, between his mother's words and