“She is coming!  She is coming!” she cried in jubilant tones.

“Who is coming?” asked Ludwig, surveying the young girl in surprise.

“Who?  Why, the lady who is to be my mother—­the beautiful lady from the manor.”

“What nonsense, Marie!  How can you give voice to such impossible nonsense?”

“But the vice-palatine would not be returning to the castle in two carriages!” persisted the maid.  “Come and see them for yourself!”

She drew him from his chair to the window in the dining-room, where his own eyes convinced him of the truth of Marie’s announcement.

Already the two vehicles were crossing the causeway, and the baroness’s rose-colored parasol gleamed among the trees.  Deeply agitated, Count Vavel hastened to meet her.

“May I come with you?” shyly begged Marie, following him.

“I beg that you will come,” was the reply; and the two, guardian and ward, hand in hand, descended to the entrance-hall.

Baroness Katharina’s countenance beamed with a magical charm—­the result of the union of opposite emotions; as when shame and courage, timidity and daring, love and heroism, meet and are blended together in a wonderful harmony—­a miracle seen only in the magic mirror of a woman’s face.

While yet several paces distant, she held out her hand toward Count Vavel, and, with a charming mixture of embarrassment and candor, said: 

“Yes, I am.”

This was her confirmation of the words Vavel had spoken in the forest in the presence of the three dragoon officers:  “She is my betrothed.”

Vavel lifted the white hand to his lips.  Then Katharina quickly passed onward toward Marie, who had timidly held back.

The baroness grasped the young girl’s hands in both her own, and looked long and earnestly into the fair face lifted shyly toward her.  Then she said: 

“It was not for his sake I came so precipitately.  He could have waited.  They told me your heart yearned for a mother’s care, and it must not be kept waiting.”

After this speech the two young women embraced.  Which was the first to sob, which kiss was the warmer, cannot be known; but that Marie was the happier was certain.  For the first time in years she was permitted to embrace a woman and tell her she loved her.  Ludwig Vavel looked with delight on the meeting between the two, and gratefully pressed the hand of his successful emissary.

When the two young women had sobbed out their hearts to each other, they began to laugh and jest.  Was not the mother still a girl, like the daughter?

“You must come with me to the manor?” said Katharina, as, with arms entwined about each other, they entered the castle.  “I shall not allow you to stop longer in this lonely place.”

“I wish you would take me with you,” responded Marie.  “I shall be very obedient and dutiful.  If I do anything that displeases you, you must scold me, and praise me when I do what is right.”