But her voice failed her, and she staggered against the wall, hiding her face in her hands. A trembling breath, a struggle, a great wild sob: the long-sealed tears were free, and flowed fast over her hands.
"Oh, no, no," she moaned, "you must not tell him that." Then choking down her agony she turned to me: "You will not--you cannot tell him of this? I am weak, ill, but I will bear everything for--for him." The great effort exhausted her, and I think that if I had not caught her she would have fallen, and she would have hurt herself very much on the stone floor. But she is young, and I am not very strong, and could not have held her up. So I knelt, letting her weight come on my shoulder.
The fair head rested pathetically against my old coat, and I tried to wipe away her tears with her long golden hair; for I had not any handkerchief. But very soon I could not see to do it. I was crying myself, for the pity of it all, and my tears trickled down and fell on her thin hands. And so I kneeled, and she half lay and half sat upon the floor, with her head resting on my shoulder; I was glad then to be old, for I felt that I had a right to comfort her.
Presently she looked up into my face, and saw that I was weeping. She did not speak, but found her little lace handkerchief, and pressed it to my eyes,--first to one, and then to the other; and the action brought a faint maidenly flush to her cheeks through all her own sorrow. A daughter could not have done it more kindly.
"My child," I said at last, "be sure that your secret is safe in me. But there is one coming with whom it will be safer."
"You are so good," she said, and her head sank once more, and nestled against my breast, so that I could just see the bright tresses through my gray beard. But in a moment she looked up again, and made as though she would rise; and then I helped her, and we both stood on our feet.
Poor, beautiful, tormented Hedwig! I can remember it, and call up the whole picture to my mind. She still leaned on my arm, and looked up to me, her loosened hair all falling back upon her shoulders; and the wonderful lines of her delicate face seemed made ethereal and angelic by her sufferings.
"My dear," I said at last, smoothing her golden hair with my hand, as I thought her mother would do, if she had a mother,--"my dear, your interview with my boy may be a short one, and you may not have an opportunity to meet at all for days. If it does not pain you too much, will you tell me just what your troubles are here? I can then tell him, so that you can save time when you are together." She gazed into my eyes for some seconds, as though to prove me, whether I were a true man.