"Love alone will not answer."

"Yes, true, faithful love will."

"There must be submission and self-sacrifice."

"True love embraces all these,--submission, self-sacrifice, the entire self."

"It is not every one who can love truly; so be upon your guard that you are not intentionally or unintentionally deceived."

"Rea.s.sure yourself, mother, and spare me your misgivings," said Johannes with unusual sternness, again turning to his newspaper, while he listened to every rustle outside the door of the room.

The Staatsrathin brought from a cupboard a delicate little coffee-mill and began to grind some fresh coffee. The clock struck half-past eight.

"It is easy to see that the young lady has not been used to a regular household," the Staatsrathin could not forbear observing.

"I only see that she is worn out after the fatigue of yesterday."

"No one who is accustomed to early rising ever sleeps so late in the morning."

"It is impossible to rise early when one works all night long."

"It is a bad custom for the head of a household!"

"Mother," said Johannes, starting up, "I should be downright unhappy if I did not know how kind-hearted you really are."

"Indeed?" The Staatsrathin shook up the coffee, but her hands trembled visibly. "This girl changes everything. Since she came into the house, all things are wrong: to-day, I make you unhappy,--yesterday, I was no mother to you! And yet, my son, since the painful day when I gave you birth, I have never been more a mother to you than now in my anxiety for your true happiness!" She could say no more; her emotion choked her utterance.

"Mother dearest," cried Johannes, embracing her tenderly, "you must not shed a tear because of a hasty word of mine. Come forgive me,--I am really so happy to-day. My dear, good mother, scold your boy well, I beg."

The Staatsrathin smiled again, and stroked her darling's shining curls.

"G.o.d bless you, my dear son. It is because I love you so that I cannot give you to any but the n.o.blest and best of women. I tremble lest you, who are without an equal in my eyes, should throw yourself away upon a wife who is unworthy of you."

"Trust me, mother, I understand and thank you, but, if you want me to be happy, love me a little less and Ernestine more! This is all I ask of you,--will you not do it?"

"The first I cannot do, but I will try to do the last, because you desire it, my son!"

"That's my own dear mother!" cried Johannes, kissing her still beautiful hands. "And now you may go and waken our guest, for I must see her before I go to the University."

"Here she is!" said the Staatsrathin, going forward to greet Ernestine.

"Good-morning, my dear. How did you sleep?" And she kissed her brow.

Ernestine looked at her, surprised and grateful. "Oh, I slept as if rocked by angels,--I have not felt so rested and refreshed for a long time!" Then, holding out a bunch of lovely white roses to Johannes, she asked, "Did you have these beautiful roses laid outside my door?"

Johannes blushed slightly, and gazed enraptured at the beautiful creature. "Yes, I put them there myself."

"I thank you!" said Ernestine. "You are kinder to me than any one ever was before. I have many flowers in my garden, but none, I think, so lovely as these. They are the first flowers I ever had given to me. I know now how pleasant it is."

"Did your uncle never give you a bouquet upon your birthday?" asked the Staatsrathin.

"Oh, no! And I do not think it would have delighted me so from him!"

said Ernestine, with artless ease.

Johannes's face beamed at these words. "When is your birthday, Ernestine?" he asked, while the Staatsrathin led her to the breakfast-table.

Ernestine set down the cup that she was just about putting to her lips, and looked at him in amazement "I do not know!"

"You do not know!" cried Johannes.

"I will ask my uncle,--he told me once, but I have forgotten."

The Staatsrathin clasped her hands. "Forgotten your own birthday? Is it possible? Was it never celebrated?"

"Celebrated?" repeated Ernestine in surprise. "No, why should it have been celebrated?"

"What! do you know nothing of this affectionate custom?"

Ernestine shook her head almost mournfully. "I know of no loving customs."

The Staatsrathin looked at her with compa.s.sion. "Then you hardly know how old you are?"

"Not exactly; but my father died when I was twelve years old,--shortly before his death he reproached me for being so little and weak for twelve years old,--and since then ten summers have pa.s.sed away."

"Poor child!" said the Staatsrathin. "I begin to understand!"

"I thought you would, mother," said Johannes from the other side of the table.

"Your uncle has deprived you of many of the pleasures of life,"

continued the Staatsrathin.

"Such pleasures, perhaps. But I must not be ungrateful,--he has given me others no less fair and great!"

"And what were they?"

"He has taught me to think and to study. There can be no greater or purer pleasures than these."

Again the Staatsrathin's brow was overcast.

Johannes saw it, and broke off the conversation. "Ernestine, it is not good for you to drink your coffee black. It excites your nerves."

"On the contrary, my uncle bids me always take it so, to stimulate me,--without it, I often could not begin my day's work."

"That accords entirely with your uncle's system of education. First he utterly prostrates you by wakefulness and study at night, and then stimulates you by artificial means. Why, you yourself can understand that such a life of alternate prostration and over-excitement must wear you out. I really do not know what to think of your uncle in this respect."

Ernestine looked down, evidently impressed by the truth of Johannes's words.

"But tell me, Johannes," said the Staatsrathin, "why do you address Fraulein Ernestine by her first name, when she does not authorize you to do so by returning the familiarity?"

"She asks me to do so."