"Results are always in G.o.d's hand," replied Frau Mollner.

"Amen!" said Johannes solemnly, from the depths of his tortured heart.

Thus the pilot, seeing looming before him the dangerous rock, past which his skill has not availed to guide the vessel intrusted to his care, says, "I have done what I could, now Providence takes the helm."

And here too Providence was guiding the vessel, but slowly,--so slowly that the lookers-on were agonized.

Day after day and week after week pa.s.sed, without any visible improvement. Ernestine's consciousness did not return. Heim shook his head. He said to Johannes one morning, "I wish your brother-in-law were at home, Johannes. I should very much like to hear his opinion of the case."

And he made no other reply to Johannes' inquiries.

Moritz Kern and his wife had been employing the vacation in a pleasure-trip, and were shortly to return home.

It looked as if Heim were coming to a conclusion, and did not wish to p.r.o.nounce an opinion without consulting a third authority.

Johannes was consumed by anxiety. For four weeks he never left Ernestine's bedside, only sleeping when she was quiet, and then with his weary head supported against the back of his chair. He would have no help, except from his mother and Gretchen. Even Willmers was not allowed to do all that she wished to do. Only one stranger was now and then admitted to the sick-room,--a venerable, aged form, that sat there motionless, disturbing no one. It was old Leonhardt. Every third day his son conducted him to the castle, and no one had the heart to refuse to allow him to take his place at the foot of Ernestine's bed, where he listened to her gloomy ravings and Mollner's deep-drawn sighs, and only now and then sadly shook his gray head.

"If she would only come to herself sufficiently," he said one day, "to let us relieve her mind of this anxiety about dying, that seems at the root of her delirium, she would soon be better."

"True, Father Leonhardt, true," replied Johannes. "But she has not one sane instant. It drives me to despair!"

"Courage, courage, dear friend," said Leonhardt, "and, remember, you only did your duty. That thought must comfort you."

"I am afraid it will not comfort me long," was Johannes' gloomy reply.

While they were speaking, Heim's carriage drove op. This time he was not alone,--Moritz was with him. Leonhardt retired to the library, where Walter always awaited him, and Helm and Moritz entered the antechamber. Gretchen and Hilsborn were standing whispering together by the window. The former hastily left the room, embarra.s.sed by the entrance of the stranger with Heim.

"Who the deuce is your pretty companion?" asked Moritz in surprise.

"It is my ward, Gleissert's unfortunate daughter," Hilsborn explained with some reserve. "I brought her hither from Hamburg."

"Oh, I know, I know,--heard all about it. Guardian, then, are you? Very delightful position, with such a charming ward," laughed Moritz.

"Here's a fellow! looks as if he couldn't say 'boh' to a goose, and brings home such a pretty girl the first journey he takes! Yes, yes,--'still waters!'"

"Do not jest," Hilsborn begged. "It is too serious a matter for jesting."

"Nay, never mind what I say," said Moritz. "I must pay some respect to your new dignity. Hardly out of leading-strings yourself, and appointed guardian to young unprotected females! Ha! ha!"

"Be quiet, Johannes will hear you," grumbled Heim. "Reserve your jests for more congenial society."

"But, my good friend, you cannot expect me to hang my head for the sake of that fool of a woman, whom I have always wished at the deuce. Who could see, without getting angry, that fellow Johannes wasting his best powers upon such an ungrateful creature? If we were compelled to stand by and look on while some one spent time and trouble in trying to make a common brier produce tea-roses, should we not long to root out the senseless weed, rather than witness such a foolish undertaking?"

"Your comparison does not hold good, my friend. The Hartwich has her thorns, but with care and patience she will blossom into a beautiful flower."

"Are you never coming in?" asked Johannes, opening the door of the sick-room and looking out impatiently. "What keeps you so long?"

"Yes, we are coming," said Heim, "but, Johannes, I would rather see Ernestine alone with Moritz."

"As you please, but pray make haste," said Johannes, coming fully into the room. "Good-day, Moritz. How are you? Did you not bring Angelika with you?"

"She wanted to come with me, but I would not let her."

"And why not?" asked Johannes in a tone of disappointment.

"Because women are always in the way at such times."

"But had you any right to refuse to allow your wife to see her mother and brother after a separation of four weeks?"

"I have the right, as her husband, to allow and forbid whatever I choose. If you wished it otherwise, you should have had it so said in the marriage contract," Moritz replied sharply. "Angelika never wishes for anything that I do not choose she should have, and whoever does not train his wife in the same way is a fool, my dear brother-in-law. Come, don't be vexed--you know what a p.r.i.c.kly fellow I am."

"I am not in the mood to mind your insinuations," said Johannes wearily. "You war with an unarmed foe. Go in, and bring me some good news if you can."

Moritz repented his hasty words when he saw how troubled Johannes really was, and immediately entered the sick-room with Heim.

Johannes sank into the chair by the window and leaned his heavy head against the panes. Such terrible thoughts and fears had lately a.s.sailed him! He would not heed them. But if the two physicians should share them also? His heart beat louder and louder with every moment's delay.

He could hardly breathe. Hilsborn stood beside him, and, without speaking, pressed his hand. They heard Moritz speak to Ernestine, and her wild, confused replies. Then the murmur of Heim's and Moritz's voices was alone audible.

At last the door opened. Even Moritz looked very grave.

"Well?" asked Johannes.

"Yes," said Moritz with a shrug, "I agree with Heim, the fever is a secondary consideration now. It is subdued--there is something worse than death to be dreaded."

"Ah! I feared it!" Johannes said with a low suppressed cry. "Be brief,--I am upon the rack--you fear--good G.o.d I you fear for her mind?"

He could say no more.

Moritz and Heim exchanged glances. "Be calm, Johannes. Remember, this is only conjecture. We are mortal, and cannot be certain. Only it cannot be denied that it looks now more like an affection of the brain than anything else."

"It is a well-known fact," Helm continued, "that patients affected in this manner are often slightly deranged in mind for some time after the fever is subdued, but such cases are most frequent among the aged, and the derangement is not of as long duration as with Ernestine.

Her continual harping upon the same idea troubled me from the beginning,--it was like monomania,--always her death and a terrible eternity ensuing upon it. She must have pondered upon it far too much lately,--it has grown to be a fixed idea. If there are not shortly signs of returning reason, I am afraid she will be----"

"Insane!" Johannes completed the sentence--"oh!--insane!" He buried his face in his hands, in an agony that convulsed his whole frame.

Moritz laid his hand upon his shoulder. "Johannes," he said, "be strong. For years we have looked to you, in joy and sorrow, as the very ideal of manly self-control and firm determination. Your example has shown as the true dignity of manhood,--and shall pain upon a woman's account have power to move you thus? No indeed! she is not worth it.

Ten of these fools are not worth one throb of agony in such a man!"

"Do not speak to me. Leave me, I pray you, to myself," cried Johannes.

"We had better go," said Heim. "He will soon come to himself."

"Good-by, Johannes," Moritz said, pressing his hand. "And listen--open the shutters in Ernestine's room. Speak to her, call to her. It is not good for her to be in that gloomy twilight. It is a case where you must try to awaken reason--not let it smoulder away with too much care and nursing. Some convalescents would never leave their beds if they were not driven from them, because they are too weak to exert themselves.

And it is just so with a diseased brain. The mind must be helped upon its feet, especially with women, who are only too ready to let themselves go."

"Moritz is right," said Heim. "I agree with him. Today is the ninth that she has been without fever. We may risk something. Farewell, Johannes. I will come again this evening."

The gentlemen motioned to Hilsborn to accompany them, and left the room.

Johannes clasped his hands, and there burst from his heart such a prayer as comes from the soul only in moments of deepest anguish. "O G.o.d, who knowest my heart and its thoughts and desires, canst Thou enter into judgment with me so heavily? Must I be the ruin of her whom I would have saved? Shall I be the cause of worse than death to her whom I would have rescued from death? Can I bear this and still retain my own reason? Have I destroyed the treasure, the hope of my existence?

Have I shattered the glorious image to whose perfection I would have lent an aiding hand? And yet I meant to fulfil my duty. O G.o.d, if I have erred, mine be the punishment, mine,--not hers through me. No burden can be laid upon me that I will not gladly bear, save this alone!"