"What avail the arduously established limits of human law and order, even though uprightly preserved for centuries long, against the storm of a first pa.s.sion? A single instant--the proud structure lies in ruins, and the crimson banner of love waves victoriously over all considerations, over all reflections.

"I felt Susanna's hot lips on my hand; they burned me like glowing iron.

I did not draw away my hand, but left it to her, without pressure, without a sign that I understood her. Before my eyes hovered the image of Anna Maria. 'Oh, Anna Maria, I could not prevent its happening thus!'

"And now the carriage rolled under our gateway, rattled over the paved court, and stopped before the steps. I saw Klaus swing himself down from the box, and saw Anna Maria, in the light of the lantern, standing in the vaulted door-way. Klaus opened the carriage-door; Susanna first raised herself up now, and he carried her like a child up the steps, past Anna Maria, into the house. They had forgotten me; the lame old aunt clambered out of the carriage with Brockelmann's help, and on entering the sitting-room I found Anna Maria and Susanna alone--Susanna, with a feverish glow on her cheeks, in Klaus's arm-chair, Anna Maria standing before her with a cup of hot tea.

"Not a question, not a reproach pa.s.sed her lips; she silently offered the warming drink, and Susanna silently refused it. 'You must go to bed, Susanna,' she then said. The girl rose and took a step or two, but tottered, and held on to her chair. 'Put your arms around my neck, Susanna!' Anna Maria cried, and in a moment had raised her in her strong arms, and went toward the door as if she were carrying a feather.

Brockelmann followed; I heard her muttering away to herself, 'That caps the climax!'

"Utterly exhausted, I sank into my chair. What was to be done now? G.o.d grant that Klaus and Anna Maria might not see each other again this evening, only this evening!

"Half an hour had pa.s.sed when I heard Anna Maria's step in the hall; the door was wide open, and I could distinctly see her tall figure approach, in the faint light of the hall-lamp. She stopped at Klaus's door and knocked. I leaned forward to listen; all was still. 'Klaus!' I heard her say. No answer. Again I thought I detected a suppressed sob in her voice. 'Klaus!' she repeated once more, imploringly, pressing on the latch. She waited a minute or two, then turned away and went up-stairs again.

"'He is angry with her,' I murmured, half aloud, 'and she wants to conciliate him. My G.o.d, turn everything to good!' I put out the lights in the sitting-room and went over to Klaus's door and listened. Regular and heavy came the sound of his steps; he was there, then! 'Klaus!' I called, with an energy which frightened myself. The steps came nearer at once, the key was turned, and he opened the door directly.

"'Come in, aunt,' he bade me. I looked at him in alarm, he looked so pale, so exhausted. His hand seized mine. 'It is well that you are looking after me, aunt; something has come over me, I know not how.'

"'And now, Klaus?' I asked, letting him lead me to the sofa, which had descended from my father and still stood on the same spot as of old, under a collection of about fifty deers' antlers, all of which had been taken on the Butze hunting-grounds, and had decorated that wall as far back as I could remember.

"He had stopped in front of me. 'And now?' he repeated, pa.s.sing his hand over his forehead. 'It is a strange question, _au fond_, aunt--Susanna will be my wife. I can give you no other answer.'

"It was out! I had long known that it must come, and yet it fell on me like a blow.

"'Klaus,' I began. But he interrupted me impatiently and indignantly.

"'I know all you would say, aunt; I have said it to myself a hundred times! I know as well as you that Susanna belongs to the common cla.s.s, that her mother came from doubtful antecedents. I know that Susanna is a trifling, spoiled child, who seems little suited to my seriousness. I know that I am old in comparison to her; and I know, above all, that Anna Maria will never regard her as a sister. Nevertheless, aunt, my resolve stands firm, for I love Susanna Mattoni, love her with all her childish faults, which are hardly to be called faults. I love her in her charming, trifling maidenhood; it will make me happy to be able to educate and guide her further, and the love that Anna Maria denies her I will try to make up to her.'

"I was silent, there was nothing more to be said.

"'You do not look happy, aunt,' he said, bitterly. 'Listen: this afternoon I was thinking of flight; but when Anna Maria said, "Susanna loves you!" it almost crushed me. Amid all the happiness which this revelation opened to me, yet much that has been sacred and not to be trifled with forcibly appealed to me. But when I beheld Susanna, like a dying person, in that poor room, all at once it was clear to me that everything in the world is powerless against a true, deep pa.s.sion, and then----'

"'And Anna Maria, Klaus?'

"'I cannot talk with her any more this evening, aunt,' he replied; 'wait till I am quieter; there is time enough. I grow violent if I think that it was her words that drove Susanna out in the stormy night. G.o.d grant that it may do her no harm!'

"'Yet do not misunderstand the fact, Klaus, that Anna Maria wished Susanna's best good,' I besought him, tears streaming from my eyes.

'Think how she loves you, how her very existence depends upon you. I shall wish from my heart, Klaus, that what you have chosen may be the right thing; but do not expect that Anna Maria will, without a struggle, see you take a step which may perhaps bring you heavy burdens and little happiness.'

"Klaus did not answer. He stood before his writing-desk and looked at Anna Maria's portrait, which she had given him at Christmas three years before; it was painted at the time that she refused Sturmer. The clear blue eyes looked over at Klaus from the proud, grave face, which had the slightest expression of pain about the mouth, as if she were again speaking the words she had said to him at that time: 'I will stay with you, Klaus; I cannot go away from you!'

"'I do not wish to proceed violently, aunt,' he began, after a long pause; 'I am no young bl.u.s.terer who would take a fortress by storm.

Susanna, too, requires rest; she ought not to be disturbed and excited any more now. Believe me, I love Anna Maria very dearly, but I cannot give up a happiness a second time for her sake; then she was a child, and toward the child I had obligations; to-day she is a maiden, who sooner or later will be a wife.'

"'No, no, Klaus," I cried.

"'Very well, not so, then. She is different from others I admit; at any rate, hers is a nature that is sufficient to itself. She is, and remains, in my heart and in my home, my only and beloved sister, who will ever hold the first place, next to--Susanna. But with that she must be satisfied, and in return I demand love, and above all, consideration for her who will be my wife. But, as I said before, I cannot possibly speak quietly with Anna Maria about it now. I will let it wait over, with my absence, perhaps three weeks, perhaps longer, and we shall all have time to become more calm--I, too, Aunt Rosamond. I thought of writing to Anna Maria about this affair, calmly and lovingly, and almost believe it is the best thing to do.'

"'And when shall you start, Klaus?'

"'Frederick is packing my trunk now; the bailiff is coming at four o'clock for a necessary conference; at five the carriage will be at the door.'

"'And does Anna Maria know?'

"'No--I would like--to go without saying good-by.'

"'You will make her angry, Klaus; it is not right.' I sobbed.

"'Let time pa.s.s, aunt, that the breach may not grow wider; you know her and you know me. There have been discussions between us of late which have left a thorn in my heart. I do not want to be violent toward her again.'

"'And Susanna?'

"'Susanna knows enough,' he replied, simply; 'you will be so kind as to explain to her that I had to go on a necessary journey, and hope next to see her well and sound again.'

"'Will she not interpret it falsely, after that vehement storm of love to-night?'

"He blushed to the roots of his curly hair.

"'No, aunt,' he said, 'it would be untimely were I to make her any a.s.surances. Susanna knows now that I love her, and I think she returns my love; of what use are further words?'

"Honest old Klaus! I can still see you standing before me, in the agitation which so well became you, and so truly brought out your fine, brave character.

"'Farewell, then, Klaus,' said I, placing my hand in his, and he drew it to his lips and looked at my tearful eyes. 'Hold your dear hands over my little Susanna,' he asked tenderly; 'I will thank you for every kind word you say to her. And should she be in danger, should she grow worse again, write me. I will leave a few lines for Anna Maria.'

"'G.o.d be with you, Klaus; may all be well!'

"He accompanied me through the dim hall as far as the stairs. A short whirr from the old clock, and two hollow strokes were heard. Two o'clock already! I waved my hand again, and went up-stairs, with how heavy a heart G.o.d only knows!

"I stopped at Susanna's door and softly lifted the latch. By the uncertain light of the night-lamp I saw Anna Maria in the arm-chair beside the bed; her head rested against the green cushion of the high back, her hands were folded over her New Testament in her lap, and she was sleeping quietly and soundly. I glided softly in and looked at Susanna; she lay awake, her eyes wide open. As she caught sight of me she dropped her long lashes, pretending deep sleep, but raised them again, blinking, as I withdrew. Was it any wonder that she did not sleep and that her cheeks glowed like crimson roses?

"My sleep was restless that night, full of confused, troubled dreams.

Toward morning I woke with a start; I thought I heard the rumbling of a coach. 'Klaus,' I cried, and a feeling of anxiety came over me. I rose and glided to the window; a thick, white autumnal mist hung over the trees and roofs of the barns; it was perfectly still all about, but the door of the carriage-house stood open and a boy was slowly sauntering into the stable; the gates were opened wide, showing a bit of the lonely, poplar-shaded highway.

"I stole away and sought my bed again; so far everything was certainly quiet and orderly. I had been sleeping soundly again, when suddenly opening my eyes, I perceived Brockelmann by my bed.

"'Fraulein,' she said, unsteadily, 'the master has gone off early this morning!'

"'He will come back, Brockelmann,' I said, consolingly. 'Does Anna Maria know yet?'

"'To be sure!' replied the old woman; 'and she was not a little frightened when Frederick brought her the letter which the master left for her. But you know, Fraulein, she always judges according to the saying, "What G.o.d does and what my brother does is well!"' With that the old woman went.

"I believe I sat at the window for two hours after that in _deshabille_, thinking over yesterday's experience; Klaus had gone, and when he returned Susanna would be his wife--that was ever the sum of my reflections.

"When I came down-stairs I found Anna Maria engaged in business transactions with the bailiff and forester. How clearly she made her arrangements! The men had not a word to reply. Offers had been made for the grain; the harvest was richer than ever before, and the price of grain low. Anna Maria did not wish to close the bargain yet; in Eastern Prussia the grain had turned out wretchedly. 'Let us wait for the potato-crop,' I heard her say. 'If that turns out as badly as seems probable now, we shall need more bread, for our people must not suffer want.'

"She proceeded with calmness and caution. Oh, yes. Klaus was right; his house was in good care. As she followed me afterward into the garden-parlor she pressed my hand.

"'Klaus's departure seems like a flight,' she said; 'but it must be all right.'

"Not a word of yesterday's occurrences! Nor in the future either.