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Miriam looked, eagerly listening, into the brown eyes that came round to meet hers, smiling: "A little land, well-tilled, A little wife, well-willed, Are great riches." Miriam seemed to gaze long at a pallid, rounded man with smiling eyes. She saw a garden and fields, a firelit interior, a little woman smiling and busy and agreeable moving quickly about.... and Pastor Lahmann presiding.
Just kind old Lahmann walking along there in the outside world.... She did not want to stop him.... He was a sort of kinsman for Mademoiselle... that was what she had meant.
Emma's hand was on her arm under a mass of fern and grasses. Voices quivered and laughed. Miriam looked again and again at Pastor Lahmann sitting almost opposite to her, next to Fraulein Pfaff. She could look at him more easily than at either of the girls. She felt that only he could feel the beauty of the evening exactly as she did. Several times she met and quietly contemplated his dark eyes.
These agents, which by many persons are looked upon as natural treatment, irritate the organs of elimination to forced, abnormal activity without at the same time arousing the cells in the interior of the body to natural elimination. Dr. H. Lahmann, one of the foremost scientists of the Nature Cure movement, made a series of interesting experiments.
She turned and drove Miriam from the room with speechless waiting eyes. The sunlight was streaming across the hall. It seemed gay and home-like. Pastor Lahmann had made her forget she was a governess. He had treated her as a girl. Fraulein's eyes had spoiled it. Fraulein was angry about it for some extraordinary reason. "Don't let her do it, Miss Henderson."
Oh, why couldn't she get away from all these girls?... indeed and again she saw the hurrying figure which had disappeared leaving the boulevard with its usual effect of a great strange ocean he could have brought help and comfort to all of them if he had seen them and stopped. Pastor Lahmann Lahmann perhaps she would not see him again. Perhaps he could tell her what she ought to do.
"I'm not a Lehrerin I'm not I'm not," she hummed as she collected her music... she would bring her songs too.... "I'm going to Pom pom pom Pom-erain eeya." "Pom erain eeya," she hummed, swinging herself round the great door into the saal. Pastor Lahmann was standing near one of the windows. The rush of her entry carried her to the middle of the room and he met her there smiling quietly.
She had sat tense and averted, seeing the general greenery, feeling that the cool flowing air might be great happiness, conscious of each form and each voice, of the insincerity of the exclamations and the babble of conversation that struggled above the noise of their going, half seeing Pastor Lahmann opposite to her, a little insincerely smiling man in an alpaca suit and a soft felt hat.
As she took her glasses from his outstretched hand she felt that Fraulein would recognise that they had established a kind of friendliness. She halted for a moment at the door, adjusting her glasses, amiably uncertain, feeling for something to say. Pastor Lahmann was standing in the middle of the room examining his nails. Fraulein, at the window, was twitching a curtain into place.
The brilliant tuneless passages bounding singly up the piano, flowing down entwined, were shaped by an iron rhythm. Everyone stirred. Smiles broke. Fraulein lifted her head until her chin was high, smiled slowly until the fullest width was reached and made a little chiding sound in her throat. Pastor Lahmann laughed with raised eyebrows. "Ah! la valse... les etudiants." The window was empty.
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