"'Ah, from Klaus!' she cried, in joyful surprise; 'and what a thick letter, aunt; just look!' She held up a large envelope. How strange,'

she remarked then; 'it is for you, aunt.'

"I started as if I had been apprehended of a crime. 'Give it to me!' I begged, and broke the crested seal with trembling hand, for I suspected what it was. An enclosure for Anna Maria fell out of the letter addressed to me, and I stealthily threw my handkerchief over it--Anna Maria had opened a business letter--and began to read:

"'DEAREST AUNT: When I went away a few weeks ago, I said to you at the last moment I should write to Anna Maria to tell her that I love Susanna Mattoni, that she is to be my wife.

Meanwhile, I had given up the idea, and thought I would speak quietly with Anna Maria on my return. But now I am again of the opinion that a written confession is best. When I ask you now to give the enclosed letter to Anna Maria, it is chiefly for this reason, that she may have a support in you. If I were to write to her directly, she would keep the matter all to herself, she is so reserved; but in this way she must speak, and will be more easily reconciled to what cannot be altered.

That it will be hard for her I cannot conceal from myself, after various scenes between us. But my decision stands irrevocably firm. I love Susanna, and G.o.d will help us over the near future, and not separate the hearts of brother and sister, who have so long clung to one another in true love. I shall come as soon as I have news; the longing takes hold of me more than I can tell.'

"I let the sheet drop, the letters danced before my eyes. How should I begin to make this news known to her?

"As I rose hastily, the letter fell at Anna Maria's feet. She raised her head and looked searchingly at me, and saw that I was making a great effort to compose myself.

"'Aunt Rosamond!' she cried, stooping and picking up the letter, 'what is it? Bad news from Klaus? Please, speak!' She knelt by my chair, and her anxious eyes tried to read my face.

"'No, no, my child!' I caught hold of the letter which she held in her hand.

"'It is certainly to me!' she cried, quickly taking it back.

"All at once I became master of my trembling nerves. 'It is to you, Anna Maria,' I agreed, 'and contains----'

"'I will see for myself, aunt,' she said, and there was a tone of infinite anxiety in her voice. She rose and sat down in one of the deep window-niches of the hall. I could not see her face from my seat; I heard only the rattling of the paper in the stillness, and my heart thumped as if it would burst. The anxious pause seemed to me an eternity; then a cry of pain sounded through the room. I sprang toward Anna Maria; her fair head lay on the window-seat, her face was buried in her hands, and an almost unearthly groaning was wrung from her breast.

"'For G.o.d's sake, Anna Maria!' I cried, embracing her. 'Compose yourself, be calm; you do him injustice; he is not lying on his bier!'

But she did not stir; she groaned as if suffering from severe physical pain.

"'Anna Maria, my dear Anna Maria!' I cried, weeping.

"'For that, ah, for that, all that I have suffered!' she cried out, and raised her pale face, transfixed with pain. She stretched up her arms, and wrung her clasped hands. 'My only brother!' she whispered, 'my only brother!' Then, springing up impetuously, she ran out.

"As if stunned, I remained behind; I had not expected this; for such an expression of pain I was not prepared.

"And the old house was still; my steps creaked on the cement floor of the corridor before Anna Maria's room, and a long, long time I stood there and listened for a sound, but it remained quiet behind the closed door. The autumn evening drew on, night closed in, solemn and clear shone the stars from the sky upon the earth beneath. 'What art thou, child of man, with thy small trouble? Look up to us and fold thy hands,'

said they in their dumb language. And I clasped my hands. 'He who created the stars to give us light by night will also lighten this spot!' I whispered.

"Eleven o'clock struck as I knocked at Susanna's door. She did not answer. I went softly into the room; a candle on the mantel, just on the point of going out, threw its unsteady light on the girl. She was lying on one side, her face turned toward the room, a smile on the red lips; beside the bed Sturmer's spray of roses, carefully placed in water.

"It was a dismal morning that followed. Anna Maria remained in her room; she did not answer our knocks, and there was no movement within.

Brockelmann's eyes were red with weeping; she shook her head, and went about the house on tip-toe, as if there were a dead person in it. I was in sheer despair, and limped from Anna Maria's door to my room, and back again. The bailiffs came and inquired for her, and went away astonished--she did not appear.

"About eight o'clock I went softly to Susanna's room. She had just risen, and was arranging her hair. The windows were opened wide; through the branches of the trees golden sunbeams slipped into the room and played over the young creature who, trifling and smiling and fresh as a rose, stood, in her white dressing-sack, before the mirror. She did not hear me enter, for she went on trilling a little song half aloud; clear as a bell the tones floated out on the clear morning air. Isa's death-bed was forgotten; ah! and something else, probably.

"I closed the door again cautiously; I was never so anxious before in my life.

"'Is Fraulein Anna Maria ill?' asked Susanna, as she found only two places set at dinner. She had come from the garden, and had a bunch of white asters at her bosom, and her eyes shone with delight.

"'I think so,' said I, softly, and folded my hands for the grace.

Susanna showed a pitying face for a moment, and then began to chatter; she was in a most agreeable mood.

"The day wore on. Anna Maria remained invisible. Brockelmann was quite beside herself. 'She is crying, she is crying as if her heart would break,' she said, coming into my room before going to bed.

"'She is crying? That is good!' said I, relieved.

"'She has never cried so much in all her life before, whispered the old woman; 'something must have happened that cuts deep into her heart.'

"'I cannot confide it to you, Brockelmann,' I replied, 'but you will know it soon.' I was sorry for the old woman; she was trembling in every limb.

"'Oh, I can guess it already, Fraulein,' she said; 'it would surprise me above all things if it did not come from that quarter!' She pointed in the direction of Susanna's room. 'One woman's head can ruin a whole country!'

"The following day was a Sunday, and a Sunday stillness lay over the house and court; even more than ordinarily, for the house down-stairs was stiller than usual, as Anna Maria had not yet left her room.

"Sadly I got ready for church, and then went to Susanna's door to call for her. As I looked in I saw her still lying in bed, still sleeping, her limbs stretched out, like a tired kitten. On the whole, I was glad; I would rather go alone to-day, with my heavy heart.

"The little church was unusually full on this Sunday, especially of Dambitz people. A danger commonly encountered, a great misfortune, brought them hither. They wanted, too, to hear what the clergyman had to say about the calamity of the fire. So it happened that the little nave was full to the last seat; only the seats of the gentry, above, were empty.

"'What G.o.d does is well!' sang the congregation. I folded my hands over my book, and tears fell on them. I spoke no words, but more warmly I surely never prayed, for Klaus, for Anna Maria. G.o.d knows all the sad thoughts that came to me. I had already fought in vain against one of them the night before: 'What if Anna Maria were not to yield; if she were, perhaps, to go out from the ancestral home, in defiance, in order to live no longer with Susanna? Oh! it was possible, with her temperament, and then what would become of them both?'

"Just then the door of the gallery moved, creaking slightly, and there, on the threshold, stood--Anna Maria! Was it really she? Her face was pale, with deep bluish shadows under the eyes; and beside her, even paler, her great eyes directed toward me, as if seeking help, stood--Susanna! Anna Maria held her hand and led her to the chair in which the mistress of Butze had always sat, and which, of late, had been Anna Maria's seat.

"The girl sank into it, a crimson glow now on her cheeks, and bent her head. Anna Maria sat behind her, and folded her hands. It had been done, then; she had yielded to her brother's will. What she had suffered in that her face showed plainly.

"Anna Maria raised her head only once during the sermon, when Pastor Grune, in speaking of the Dambitz fire, mentioned the man who had perished, and, in a few moving words, uttered a prayer of thanksgiving that G.o.d had protected him who had risked his own life to save another, almost lost. Then she cast a long look across at Sturmer's empty seat.

Susanna, too, raised her lashes, but dropped them at once, shyly, as if she were doing something wrong.

"On the way home Anna Maria walked beside me with her usual firm step, Susanna's hand in hers. There was something solemn in her manner, and when we stood in the garden-parlor, the tall, fair girl drew Susanna to her.

"'Make him happy,' she bade her softly; 'a n.o.bler, a better man does not exist. G.o.d has bestowed a very rich happiness upon you.' She kissed the girl on the forehead, and went down into the garden. But Susanna suddenly fell on my neck and broke out in convulsive sobs.

"'Why, Susanna, are you not happy?' I asked. No answer; she only clung more closely to me.

"'Have you thought that you have now a home and the heart of a n.o.ble man; that you are his bride-elect, loved beyond everything?'

"She gave a shiver, and stopped crying.

"'Come, Susanna,' I begged, kindly; 'you belong to us now; you have now a family home and I am now your aunt,' I added, jokingly. 'Stop crying.

Come, let us go down to Anna Maria; you have not said a friendly word to her yet.'

"She threw her head back, and seemed to be deliberating for a moment; then she ran out. I heard her swiftly retreating steps in the corridor.

'I will seek Anna Maria, at least to learn what has pa.s.sed,' I murmured, arid turned at once to the garden. So it had come about. Klaus was betrothed; how often I had imagined it formerly. And to-day? A sort of film came over my eyes, and the grayest of gray seemed the world round about.

"Anna Maria was standing by the little pond, looking into the brown water; she gave me her hand, quietly and kindly.

"'My dear Anna Maria,' said I, 'G.o.d leads human hearts together.'

"She nodded mutely.

"'Shall you write Klaus?' I continued.

"'It is already done. I wrote on that night,' she replied.