"Very sorry not to have met you; hope you will come to a little supper at our house the day after Christmas."

It was the first invitation to Gertrude's house. He wrote an acceptance at once. Then he remembered that he had ordered the sleigh to go to the city to do some errands there. He would send the hotel porter across with the card.

CHAPTER V.

Christmas had pa.s.sed and the last of the holidays had come with rain and thaw; it stripped off the brilliant white snowy coverlid from the earth as if it had been only a festal decoration, and the black earth was good enough for ordinary days.

Mrs. Baumhagen was sitting in a peevish mood at the window in her room looking out over the market-place. She had a slight headache, and besides--there was nothing at all to do to-day, no theatre, no party, not even the whist club, and yesterday at Jenny's it had been very dull. Finally she was vexed with Gertrude who, contrary to all custom, had talked eagerly to her neighbor at dinner, that stranger who had run after her in the church that time.

It was foolish of the children to have placed him beside her.

"A letter, Mrs. Baumhagen." Sophie brought in a simple white envelope.

"Without any post-mark? Who left it?" she asked, looking at the handwriting which was quite unknown to her.

"An old servant or coachman, I did not know him."

Mrs. Baumhagen shook her head as she took the letter and read it.

She rose suddenly, with a deep flush on her face, and called:

"Gertrude! Gertrude!"

The young girl came at once.

The active little woman had already rung the bell and said to Sophie as she entered:

"Call Mrs. Fredericks and my son-in-law, tell them to come quickly, quickly!--Gertrude, I must have an explanation of this. But I must collect myself first, must--"

"Mamma," entreated the young girl, turning slightly pale, "let us discuss the matter alone--why should Jenny and Arthur--?"

"Do you know then what is in this letter?" cried the excited mother.

"Yes," replied Gertrude, firmly, coming up to the arm chair into which her mother had thrown herself.

"With your consent, child?--Gertrude?"

"With my consent, mamma," repeated the young girl, a clear, bright crimson staining the beautiful face.

Mrs. Baumhagen said not another word, but began to cry bitterly.

"When did you permit him to write to me?" she asked, after a long pause, drying her eyes.

"Yesterday, mamma."

At this moment Jenny thrust her pretty blonde head in at the door.

"Jenny!" cried the mother, the tears again starting to her eyes, and the obstinate lines about the mouth coming out more distinctly.

"For Heaven's sake, what is the matter?" cried the young wife.

"Jenny, child! Gertrude is engaged!"

Mrs. Jenny recovered her composure at once. "Well," she cried, lightly, "is that so great a misfortune?"

"But, to whom, to whom!" cried the mother.

"Well?" inquired Jenny.

"To that--that--yesterday--Linden is his name, Frank Linden. Here it is down in black and white,--a man that I have hardly seen three times!"

Jenny turned her large and wondering eyes upon Gertrude, who was still standing behind her mother's chair.

"Good gracious, Gertrude," she cried, "what possessed you to think of him?"

"What possessed you to think of Arthur?" asked the young girl, straightening herself up. "How do people ever think of each other? I don't know, I only know that I love him, and I have pledged him my word."

"When, I should like to know?"

"Last evening, in your red room, Jenny,--if you think the _when_ has anything to do with the matter."

"But, so suddenly, without any preparation. What guarantee have you that he--?"

"As good a guarantee at least," interrupted Gertrude, now pale to the lips, "as I should have had if I had accepted Lieutenant von Lowenberg's proposal the other day."

"Yes, yes, she is right there, mamma," said Jenny.

"Oh, of course!" was the reply, "I am to say yes and amen at once. But I must speak to Arthur first and to Aunt Pauline and Uncle Henry. I will not take the responsibility of such a step on myself alone in any case."

"Mamma, you will not go asking the whole neighborhood," said the young girl, in a trembling voice. "It only concerns you and me, and--" she drew a long breath--"I shall hardly change my mind in consequence of any representations."

"But Arthur could make inquiries about him," interrupted Jenny.

"Thank you, Jenny, I beg you will spare yourself the trouble. My heart speaks loudly enough for him. If I had not known my own mind weeks ago, I should not be standing before you as I am now."

"You are an ungrateful and heartless child," sobbed her mother. "You think you will conquer me by your obstinacy. Your father used to drive me wild with just that same calmness. It makes me tremble all over only just to see those firmly closed lips and those calm eyes. It is dreadful!"

Gertrude remained standing a few minutes, then without a word of reply she left the room.

"It is a speculation on his part," said Mrs. Jenny, carelessly, "there is no doubt of that."

"And she believes all he tells her," sobbed the mother. "That unlucky christening was the cause of it all. She is so impressed by anything of that sort."

Jenny nodded.