"Ah, yes, you poor little sickly thing!" she
heard him mutter. "Don't you make such an
ado now. You shall soon be quite well, if you
will only mind what I tell you. Stop, stop!
Take it easy. It is all for your own good, you
know. If you had only been prudent, and not
stepped on your lame leg, you might have been
spared this affliction. But, after all, it was not
your fault--it was that foolish little mother of
yours. She will remember now that a skein of
hemp thread is not the thing to line her nest
with. If she doesn't, you may tell her that it
was I who said so."
Augusta stood gazing on in mute astonishment;
then, suddenly remembering her hasty
toilet, she started to run; but, as chance would
have it, a dry branch, which hung rather low,
caught at her hood, and her hair fell in a black
wavy stream down over her shoulders. She
gave a little cry, the tree shook violently, and
Strand was at her side. She blushed crimson
over neck and face, and, in her utter bewilderment,
stood like a culprit before him, unable to
move, unable to speak, and only returning with
a silent bow his cordial greeting. It seemed to
her that she had ungenerously intruded upon
his privacy, watching him, while he thought
himself unobserved. And Augusta was quite
unskilled in those social accomplishments which
enable young ladies to hide their inward emotions
under a show of polite indifference, for,
however hard she strove, she could not suppress
a slight quivering of her lips, and her intense
self-reproach made Strand's words fall dimly on
her ears, and prevented her from gathering the
meaning of what he was saying.
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