"Yes," said Johannes, "but I must tell her who Gretchen is,--you will excuse me?"

"Yes, yes, go, for Heaven's sake! don't wait an instant!" Moritz called after him.

"Ernestine," said Johannes, after he had exchanged morning greetings with the invalid, whose improvement was evidently steady and sure,--"Ernestine, you wish to see the young girl who was here yesterday, and I must first tell you who she is. Do you still cherish any affection for your uncle?"

Ernestine shook her head. "He is dead to me."

"I have something to tell you of him that may agitate you, and I scarcely dare to do it."

"What can agitate me, after all the terrors that my own fancy has conjured up?" Ernestine asked composedly.

"Well, then, the girl who has helped to nurse you with touching fidelity for the last four weeks is Leuthold's daughter, and--an orphan!"

"Good G.o.d!" she exclaimed. "Poor child! Is Leuthold dead?"

"Yes, he inflicted upon himself the punishment of his crimes. This world is past for him."

Ernestine looked up gravely. "I cannot mourn him. He was my evil genius, and shamefully abused my confidence. But I will not visit it upon his daughter,--poor, innocent child. I pray you bring her to me,--she is the only creature in this world who is linked to me by the tie of kindred!"

Johannes went to the window and beckoned to Gretchen, who was approaching the house with Hilsborn.

She came instantly, and a minute later was upon her knees at Ernestine's bedside. Ernestine would have drawn her towards her, but she sobbed, "Let me kneel at your feet,--only so should the daughter of one who greatly wronged you dare to approach you."

"Gretchen, poor, innocent orphan," cried Ernestine, "come to my heart!"

Then, regarding her with emotion, she declared, "Indeed, if anything could lighten his errors, it would be his affection for such a child.

For the sake of that pure human love, I forgive him. If I were rich, I would share all with you as with a sister. If I had anything to give, I would give it to you. But I have nothing for you, except sympathy and affection."

And the two girls were clasped in each other's arms.

CHAPTER X.

RETURN.

With reawakening strength, entirely novel feelings of affection and interest penetrated Ernestine's nature,--genuine human sympathies, such as her life hitherto had afforded no room for. In a few days the closest intimacy was established between herself and Gretchen. There was a simplicity about Ernestine that no one had believed her to possess. It was as if she now began to live for the first time, as if during the long period of her unconsciousness she had forgotten her former experience of the outward world, and she was as delighted as a child with all that unfolded itself before her eyes. She was as charmed as if she had never seen it before with the sight of the clear autumn sky. She would gaze long and thoughtfully upon the flowers that were laid upon her bed. She eagerly turned over, with Gretchen, the books of rare prints that Johannes brought for her amus.e.m.e.nt. Hitherto she had known Art only by name, and had not had an idea of its significance.

Her uncle had never supplied food for her imagination, lest she should be turned aside from the pursuit of her graver studies. Her weary soul now bathed in the waters of fancy which Johannes unlocked for her refreshment. He brought her photographs of pictures and statues by famous masters, and ideas of the beautiful were awakened within her, filling her with glad inspiration. And Gretchen met her with ready sympathy,--she was in advance of her, indeed, and could point out to her many beauties that else might have escaped her unpractised eyes. At such times Ernestine would regard Gretchen with admiration and surprise. It was a pleasure to see the two girls throwing their whole souls into these new enjoyments together. Even Hilsborn, who since Ernestine's convalescence had naturally been defrauded of many a delightful moment, could not grudge them so pure and true a happiness.

Sometimes from morning until night the two lovely heads would be bent together over books and prints, and sometimes they had a companion,--Father Leonhardt, who would come "on purpose," as he expressed it, "to see the new books." But his delight was in listening to Ernestine while she described the pictures minutely, oftentimes with so much truth and spirit that the old man would clasp his hands and cry, "How beautiful that must be!"

"Do you see it, Father Leonhardt?" she would ask in her zeal, and the old man would reply delightedly, "Yes, I see it!"

And when anything pleased him particularly, he would ask, "Show me that picture again!" and Ernestine was unwearied in her descriptions and explanations.

Johannes and his mother were enchanted with this rejuvenation, as it might be called.

She avoided with secret dislike any return to her former world of thought,--it was too harsh a contrast to her present delight,--she seemed actually disgusted with the anatomical pursuits which had led her to dissect so curiously what now gave her so much pleasure. She would not again descend into those gloomy depths whence she had drawn nothing but despair, and all that she now looked upon was as novel and strange as if she had spent the last ten years immured in a tower, from which she had only looked out upon G.o.d's fair world from a far-off height.

Her recovery advanced so rapidly that eight days after her first awaking to consciousness she was able to be carried by Johannes and Gretchen into the library, once more restored to order and comfort by the faithful care of Willmers. She was placed in an arm-chair, and, as the Staatsrathin covered her with a warm, soft coverlet, she said in a weak voice, "Now let us begin where we left off ten years ago!"

The Staatsrathin stooped, and, kissing her brow, whispered softly, "It is a pity so much time has been lost!"

"Oh, no,--not a pity," replied Ernestine,--"no time spent in searching for truth is lost; but the measure of my strength is exhausted. I must give up."

And, with a melancholy smile, she leaned back her head and was silent

The days pa.s.sed on, and the time approached very nearly when Mollner must return to his duties in town. Ernestine grew more silent and thoughtful. No one could understand the change in her mood, for her physical condition improved daily, while she fell into a state of depression such as had not befallen her since she began to recover. At last Heim decreed that she must have fresh air, and one warm noon she drove out for the first time. She had begged that Gretchen alone might accompany her, and the Mollners had, although unwillingly, acceded to her request, Johannes carefully lifting her into the carriage.

"Gretchen," said Ernestine, as they drove along, "Dr. Mollner has twice alluded to the fact that in two or three days he, with his mother, must move back to town, as his lectures at the University will begin again.

You heard how they took it for granted that we should accompany them. I made only evasive answers, but now I must resolve what to do. Gretchen, you have often told me that your peace of mind depended upon your helping to support me as long as I needed you." She looked searchingly at the girl. "What if I were to take you at your word?"

"I should keep it, for I gave it not only to you, but to G.o.d Almighty,"

said Gretchen. "Tell me, Ernestine, what I can do for you."

"Everything!" cried Ernestine. "You can save me from living upon charity."

"How so?"

"Can you not imagine, Gretchen, what it must be to me to accept further benefits from people whom I long to repay in kind, whom I would like to reward a thousandfold for all that they have done for me? I do not know whether you understand me when I tell you that I would far rather earn my living by the work of my hands than depend upon the kindness of those whom I once treated so arrogantly, and who have already heaped more coals of fire upon my head than I can bear. You shake your head.

Your father, Gretchen, would have understood me,--his words upon this subject, the evening before he left me, are ineffaceably impressed upon my mind."

"Forgive me, Ernestine, it does not become me to depreciate my father still further in your eyes, but I cannot be silent! I have arrived at the melancholy conviction that my father never advised you well. He was wrong here too. He did not know Dr. Mollner,--he could not conceive of the depth and truth of his affection for you. Will you reward the man who has done so much for you by making him wretched? You certainly will do so if you refuse to go with him. No, Ernestine, I do not understand how you can break a man's heart just for the sake of your pride!"

Ernestine did not speak for a few moments, and then she said, "Gretchen, you are a child,--I cannot explain to you that there is a principle of honour to which one must sacrifice the happiness of a life, should circ.u.mstances demand it. You know, perhaps, that when I was wealthy and independent, Mollner offered me his hand, and that I refused it, because I could not fulfil the conditions that he proposed.

Since that time his conduct has failed to a.s.sure me that he still loves me, for a nature as n.o.ble as his, is perfectly capable of sacrificing all that he has for me, from pure sympathy and mere compa.s.sion. And, even if he still loved me, could he value a heart open to the suspicion of surrendering itself to him under the pressure of necessity, not from free choice? No, Gretchen, there can be no firm structure of happiness erected upon such a foundation. This is not the time when I could withdraw my refusal to be his wife! No, no! such a course at this point would fix the blush of shame upon my forehead forever. Perhaps I may still succeed in obtaining an independence by my own exertions,--an independence that will again make me his equal. Then it would be different,--then he would know that I gave myself to him from free choice, not upon compulsion. If he should woo me then,--oh, Gretchen, it would be happiness that I scarcely dare to think of!"

Gretchen kissed a tear from Ernestine's pale cheek, and said gently, "You are not like any one else, but always true and n.o.ble. I have no right to judge you. If you say, 'Thus shall it be,' I will submit. My only desire is to obey you."

"You shall not obey me, Gretchen, but you shall be my guide in a world where I am a stranger,--you shall lend me your arm to support me until I can stand alone. Will you not?"

"Yes," was the low reply. The girl was thinking of Hilsborn and his sorrow at the postponement of his hopes and of her own hopes also, and she tried to take heart and tell her cousin that she loved and was loved in return, and that she would be able to offer her an asylum. But Gretchen paused, and bethought herself. Ernestine would never accept from Hilsborn what she refused to receive from Mollner. She could not make such an offer without offending Ernestine, and, if Ernestine learned how matters stood with Gretchen, she would a.s.suredly refuse all a.s.sistance or service from her that could delay her happiness with Hilsborn. For Ernestine's proud nature never could endure the thought of being a burden to any one Gretchen had felt all this from the first, and therefore had insisted that her betrothal should be kept secret from Ernestine. And could she tell her of it now? She controlled herself, and was silent.

"I will tell you my plan," Ernestine began. "Of course I have given up the idea of going to America. I could never do what would be required of me there, without a.s.sistance, and, even if I could, I would not leave home and all that I love for the sake of mere fame. I will try to find a position as a teacher of natural science in some inst.i.tution, or, failing that, I will go out as a private governess. But I know how ignorant I am of everything that is looked for from a woman in such a position. I know nothing of feminine occupations myself, and, of course, am quite unfit to have the entire charge of children. I understand no art,--I am deficient in all practical knowledge,--the knowledge that I possess is seldom needed in life. This I have learned since I have seen something of the world. You, Gretchen, are my only hope. You will teach me everything,--you are a proficient in all that a woman should know. I must leave this place. I must get away from this part of the country. Until I am out of Mollner's reach, there will be no peace either for him or for me. He would always be thinking that he ought to take me from my position, and there would be endless struggles. So I think it would be best that we two should retire to some small town, as far off as my means will permit, and then, if you would sacrifice to me a few months of your young, hopeful life, until I should be sufficiently far advanced to procure a situation."----She got so far with difficulty, and then, breaking off, asked humbly, "Is this asking too much of you? The world is open to you, Gretchen. Every one would welcome you back from your seclusion. Mollner's house will always be a home for you, where you may be tenderly cared for. Will you sacrifice all this to me, for a little while?"

"With all my heart," said Gretchen. "But, dearest Ernestine, have we the means to carry out this plan? All that I possess is three gold pieces that I found in the pocket of the dress that my mother gave me.

Look, here they are--I always carry them about me. My mother had written upon the paper in which they were wrapped, 'To be used in case of necessity.' I meant to spend them for you, for you are all the 'necessity' that I have. Take them,--they are all that I have, but I am afraid they will not go far."

"Thank you, you dear faithful little sister!" cried Ernestine. "We are not so poor as you think. Dr. Mollner has succeeded in saving all my furniture from your father's creditors. The sale of it will bring us in a sum sufficient to support us until I shall find a situation."

"The question is, then, how long that will be," said Gretchen, thoughtfully.

"Only a few months at the longest, I should suppose."

Gretchen was startled, but she only said gently, "Then we had better select a place where I too can earn something, that there may be no danger of our suffering from want."

"That shall be as you think best," replied Ernestine. "I put myself entirely in your hands,--only take me away secretly, so that no one may seek to detain us."