"No," he answered; and it cost him a curious struggle to get the one
brief word--out.
They passed through the tiny gate; it was almost dark in the yard now.
Before the entrance to the house stood a large open travelling
carriage; servants were removing the belongings of the travellers who
had already alighted. Through the main gate, on the opposite side, a
cart, laden with the heavier articles of luggage, was entering.
"Uncle Bertram," whispered Erna.
Just as they were about to cross the threshold of the tiny gate she had
seized his hand with gentle pressure. He had involuntarily stopped.
Again she was gazing up at him, but not now, as before in the wood,
with a stern expression. Was it a reflection of the radiance of the
young moon, just then rising above the gloom which was enfolding the
buildings around--or could it be tears that glistened in the great
eyes?
"You want to leave us, Uncle Bertram?"
"Who told you so?"
"It matters not. You want to leave us?"
"Yes."
"Stay! Pray, stay--for my sake!"
She dropped the hand which she had clasped until now, and hurried
across the yard to the mansion-house, while he ascended the stairs to
the side wing where his own rooms were situated, his whole soul full of
the image of this wondrous girl, whose words, whose looks, had so
potent a spell over him, that he no longer seemed to have a will of his
own as against hers.