He put his hand under her chin and looked into her eyes. She did not reply, but he read the confirmation of his suspicion in her tearful eyes.

"Are they so anxious to be rid of me? Is their dislike so strong, Gertrude? And you?" He felt how she trembled.

"Oh!" she cried with a pa.s.sion which made Linden start, "Oh, I--do you know there are moments when something seems to take possession of me with the power of a demon--I am swept away by the force of my wrath--I--I do not know what I say and do--I am ashamed now--I ought to have been calm--they cannot separate us, no--they cannot. Now mamma is lying on the sofa in her room and Sophie has gone for the doctor. Ah, Frank, I have borne it all so patiently all these long years--is it so great a sin that my long suppressed feelings should have burst out at last, that my self-control should have given way for once? I was violent--I have always thought I was so calm--those words that I heard seemed to sweep me away like a storm--I don't know what reproaches I may have spoken against my mother. And to-day, just to-day, when they have carried away the only sunbeam that was in this house for me!"

"We will go to your mother, Gertrude, and beg her to pardon us for loving each other so much--come!"

He had said this to comfort her, and because he felt that something must be done. His own desire would have been to take the young girl by the hand and lead her away out of this house.

She freed herself from him and looked at him in amazement. "Ask pardon?

And for that?"

"Gertrude, don't misunderstand me." He felt almost embarra.s.sed before her great wondering eyes.

"I meant that we should show your mother calmly and quietly that we cannot give each other up. Say something to her in excuse for your vehemence. Come, I will go with you."

"No, I cannot!" she cried, "I cannot beg forgiveness when I have been so injured in all that I hold most sacred. I cannot!" she reiterated, going past him to the deep window.

He followed her and took her hand; a strange feeling had come over him.

Until now he had only seen in her a calm, reasonable woman. But she misunderstood him.

"No!" she cried, "don't ask me, Frank. I will not do it, I cannot, I never could! Not even when I was a child, though she shut me up for hours in a dark room."

"I was not going to urge you," he said; "only give me your hand, I must know whether this is really you, Gertrude."

She bent down and pressed a kiss on his right hand. "If _you_ were not in the world, Frank, if I had to be here all alone!" she whispered warmly.

"But you have all this trouble on my account," he replied, much moved.

She shook her head.

"Only do not misunderstand me," she continued, "and have patience with my faults. You will promise me that, Frank, will you not?" she urged in an anxious tone. "You see I am so perverse when I feel injured; I get as hard as a stone then and everything good seems to die out of me. I could hate those people who thrust their low ideas on me! Frank, you don't know how I have suffered from this already."

They still stood hand in hand. The snow whirled about before the window in the twilight of the short winter day. It was so still here inside, so warm and cosy.

"Frank!" she whispered.

"My Gertrude!"

"You are not angry with me?"

"No, no. We will bear with each other's faults and we will try to improve when we are all alone by our two selves."

"You have no faults," she said, proudly, in a tone of conviction, drawing closer to him.

He was grave.

"Yes, Gertrude, I am very vehement, I sometimes have terrible fits of pa.s.sion."

"Those are not the worst men," she said, putting her arm round his neck.

"Are you so sure of that?" he asked, smiling into the lovely face that looked so gentle now in the twilight.

"Yes. My grandmother always said so," she replied.

"The grandmother in the old time?"

"Yes, dearest. Oh, if you had only known her! But I should like to see your mother," she added.

"We will go to see her, darling, as soon as we are married. When will that be?"

"Frank," she said, instead of answering, "don't let us go on a journey at once; let me know first what it is to have a home where love, trust and mutual understanding dwell together. Let me learn first what _peace_ is."

"Yes, my Gertrude. Would to G.o.d I could carry you off to the old house to-morrow."

"Gertrude!" called a shrill voice from the next room.

She started.

"Mamma!" she whispered. "Come!" They went together. Mrs. Baumhagen was standing beside her writing-table. Sophie had just brought the lamp, the light of which shone full on the mother's round flushed face, on which rested an unusually decided expression.

"I am glad you are here, Linden," she said to the young man, turning down the leaf of the writing-table and taking her seat before it.

"How much time do you require to put your house in order so that Gertrude could live in it?"

"Not long," he replied. "Some rooms need new carpets, and trifles of that sort--that is all."

"Very well--I shall be satisfied," she replied, coldly. "Then to-morrow you will have the goodness to send your papers in to the clergyman and have the banns published. In three weeks I shall leave for the South with my eldest daughter, and before I go I wish to have this--this affair arranged."

Linden bowed.

"I thank you, madam."

Gertrude stood silent, white to the lips, but she did not look at him.

He knew she was suffering tortures for his sake.

"Now I wish to settle some things with my daughter," continued Mrs.

Baumhagen, "with regard to her trousseau and the marriage contract."

He turned to go at once, but stopped to kiss his bride's hand and looked at her with imploring eyes. "Be calm," he whispered.

Gertrude laid her hand on her lover's mouth.

"I will have no marriage contract," she said aloud.

"Then your fortune will be common property," was her mother's answer.

"That is what I desire," she replied. "If I can give myself, I will not keep my money from him. That would seem to me beyond measure, foolish."