When the major reached this point in his niece's memoirs, he rubbed his forehead thoughtfully. "H'm!" he murmured; "why must people marry because they love each other? By Jove! On the whole, it is well that I now have some idea of what is going on in that insane little head." After this wise the major quieted his scruples as to the unpardonable indiscretion he had committed.

The reading of Zdena's extraordinary production had so absorbed his attention that he had failed to hear the approach of some heavy vehicle which had drawn up before the castle, or the rhythmic beat of the hoofs of two riding-horses. Now he was suddenly startled by a firm step to the accompaniment of a low jingling sound in the corridor outside his room-door, at which there came a knock.

"Come in!" he called out.

A young officer of hussars in a blue undress uniform entered.

"Harry! is it you?" the major exclaimed, cordially. "Let me have a look at you! What has put it into your head to drop down upon us so unexpectedly, like the deus ex machin in the fifth act of a melodrama?"

The young fellow blushed slightly. "I wanted to surprise you," he said, laughing, in some confusion.

"And you will stay a while with us? How long is your leave?"

"Six weeks."

"That's right. And you're glad to be at home once more?" said the major, smiling broadly, and rubbing his hands.

He seemed to his nephew to be rather distrait, which he certainly was, for all the while he was thinking of matters of which no mention was made.

"My uncle has either been taking a glass too much or he has drawn the first prize in a lottery," Harry thought to himself as he said, aloud, "Hedwig has just come over, and Aunt Melanie."

"Ah, the Zriny: has she quartered herself upon you?" the major asked, with something of a drawl.

"I escorted her here from Vienna. Aunt Rosamunda deputed me to inform you of our relative's arrival, and to beg you to come immediately to the drawing-room."

"H'm, h'm!--I'll go, I'll go," murmured the major, and he left the room apparently not very well pleased. In the corridor he suddenly turned to his nephew, who was following at his heels. "Have you seen Zdena yet?" he asked, with a merry twinkle of his eye.

"N--o."

"Well, go find her."

"Where shall I look for her?"

"In the garden, in the honeysuckle arbour. She is posing for her elderly adorer that he may paint her as Zephyr, or Flora, or something of the kind."

"Her elderly adorer? Who is he?" Harry asked, with a frown, his voice sounding hard and sharp.

"A cousin of my wife's, Baron Wenkendorf is his name, an enormously rich old bachelor, and head over ears in love with our girl. He calls himself a painter, in spite of his wealth, and he has induced the child to stand for some picture for him. He makes love to her, I suppose, while she poses."

"And she--what has she to say to his homage?" asked Harry, feeling as if some one were choking him.

"Oh, she's tolerably condescending. She does not object to being made love to a little. He is an agreeable man in spite of his forty-six years, and it certainly would be an excellent match."

As the major finished his sentence with an expression of countenance which Harry could not understand, the paths of the two men separated. Harry hurried down into the garden; the major walked along the corridor to the drawing-room door.

"H'm! I have warmed him up," the major said to himself; "'twill do no harm if they quarrel a little, those two children: it will bring the little goose to her senses all the sooner. There is only one healthy solution for the entire problem. You----!" he shook his forefinger at the empty air. "Why must people marry because they love each other? Only wait, you ultrasensible little goose; I will remind you of that one of these days."