"Through my intercourse with Robert, I now learnt for the first that one may tell lies for love's sake. I concealed from him the sad effects of his letter, yes, I even unblushingly wrote to him that everything was as well as could be. I acted thus, because I reflected that the truth would plunge him into a thousand new cares and anxieties, which must absolutely crush him, as he was powerless to help. But it was very hard for me to keep up my light chatty tone, and often some joke seemed to freeze in my pen.

"And things grew more and more troubled. Papa was despondent because failure of crops had destroyed his best prospects, mama grumbled because no one came to amuse her, and Martha faded away more and more.

"Christmas drew near--such a gloomy one as our happy home had never before witnessed.

"Round the burning Christmas tree which I had this time trimmed and lighted in Martha's stead, we stood and did not know what to say to each other for very heaviness of heart. And because no one else did so, I had to a.s.sume a forced smile and attempt to scare the wrinkles from their brows. But I got very little response indeed, and finally we shook hands and said 'good-night,' so that each might retire to his room, for we felt that anyhow we could not get on together.

"When I came to Martha, who sat silently in a corner, gazing vacantly at the dying candles, a painful feeling darted through my breast, as if I were committing some wrong towards her, which I ought to redress. But I did not know what this wrong could be.

"She kissed me on my forehead and said: 'May G.o.d ever let you keep your brave heart, my child; I thank you for every joke to which you forced yourself to-day.' I, however, knew not what to reply, for that consciousness of guilt, which I could not grasp, was gnawing at my soul. When I was alone in my room, I thought to myself, 'There, now you will celebrate Christmas.' I took Robert's letters out of the drawer where I kept them carefully hidden, and determined to read at them far into the night.

"The storm rattled my shutters, snow-flakes drifted with a soft rustle against the window-panes, and above, there peacefully gleamed the green-shaded hanging lamp.

"Then, as I comfortably spread out the little heap of letters in front of me, I heard next door, in Martha's room, a dull thud and thereupon an indistinct noise that sounded to me like praying and sobbing.

"'That is how _she_ celebrates Christmas,' I said, involuntarily folding my hands, and again I felt that pang at my heart, as if I were acting deceitfully and heartlessly towards my sister.

"And I brooded over it again till it became clear to me that the letters were to blame.

"'Do I not write and keep silence all for her good?' I asked myself; but my conscience would not be bribed; it answered: 'No.' Like flames of fire my blood shot up into my face, for I recognised with what pleasure my own heart hung upon those letters. 'What would she not give for one of these papers?' I went on thinking, 'She who perhaps no longer believes in his love, who is wrestling with the fear that he only did not come because he meant to tear asunder the ties that bind him to her heart.' 'And you hear her sobbing?' the voice within me continued, 'you leave her in her anguish, and meanwhile comfort yourself with the knowledge that you share a secret with him, with him who belongs to her alone?'

"I clasped my hands before my face; shame so powerfully possessed me, that I was afraid of the light which shone down upon me.

"'Give her the letters!' the voice cried suddenly, and cried so loudly and distinctly that I thought the storm must have shouted the words in my ears.

"Then I fought a hard battle; but each time my good intention wavered, hard pressed by the fear of breaking my word to him, and by the wish to remain still longer in secret correspondence with him, her sobbing and praying reached me more distinctly and confused my senses so, that I felt like fleeing to the ends of the earth in order to hear no more.

"And at length I had made up my mind. I carefully packed the letters together in a neat little heap, tied them round with a silk ribbon, and set about carrying them across to her.

"'That shall be your Christmas present,' said I, for I remembered that this year I had not been able to embroider or crochet anything for her, as had usually been the custom between us. And as he who gives likes to clothe his doings in theatrical garb in order to hide his overflowing heart, I determined first to act a little comedy with her.

"I crept, half-dressed as I was, down into the sitting-room, where our presents were spread under the Christmas tree, groped in the dark for her plate, gathered up what lay beside it, and on the top of all placed the little packet of letters. Thus laden, I came to her door and knocked.

"I heard a sound like some one dragging himself up from the floor, and after a long while--she was probably drying her eyes first--her voice was heard at the door, asking who was there and what was wanted of her.

"'It is I, Martha.' I said, 'I come to bring you--your plate--you left it downstairs.'

"'Take it with you into your room, I will fetch it to-morrow,' she replied, trying hard to suppress the sobs in her voice.

"'But something else has been added,' said I, and my words too were almost choked with tears.

"'Then give it me to-morrow.' she replied, 'I am already undressed.'

"'But it is from me,' said I.

"And because, despite her misery, in the kindness of her heart she did not want to hurt my feelings, she opened the door. I rushed up to her and wept upon her neck, while I kept tight hold of the plate with my left hand.

"'Whatever is the matter with you, child?' she asked, and patted me. 'A little while ago you seemed the only cheerful one, and now----'

"I pulled myself together, led her under the light, and pointed to the plate. At the first glance she recognised the handwriting, grew as white as a sheet, and stared at me like one possessed, out of eyes that were red with weeping.

"'Take them, take them!' said I.

"She stretched out her hand, but it shrank back as at the touch of red-hot iron.

"'See, Martha!' said I, with the desire to revenge myself for her silence, and at the same time to brag a little, 'you had no confidence in me; you considered me too childish, but I saw through everything, and while you were fretting, I was up and doing.' Still she continued to stare at me, without power of comprehension. 'You imagine that he no longer cares about you,' I went on, 'while all the time I have had to give him regular account of your doings and of the state of your health. Every week----'

"She staggered back, seized her head with both her hands, and then suddenly a shudder seemed to pa.s.s through her frame. She stepped close up to me, grasped my two hands, and with a peculiarly hoa.r.s.e voice she said, 'Look me in the face, Olga! Which of you two wrote the first letter?'

"'I,' said I, astonished, for I did not yet know what she was driving at.

"'And you--you betrayed to him the state of my feelings--you--_offered_ me, Olga?'

"'What puts such an idea into your head?' said I. 'He himself confessed everything to me when he was here. Oh, he knew me better than you.' I added, for I could not let this small trump slip by. 'He was not ashamed to confide in me.'

"'Thank G.o.d!' she murmured with a deep sigh, and folded her hands.

"'But now come, Martha,' said I, leading her to the table, 'now we will celebrate Christmas.'

"And then we read the letters together, one after the other, and from one and all his heart, faithful and true as gold, shone forth through the simple, awkward words, and spread a warm glow, so that our heavily oppressed souls grew lighter and more cheerful, that we laughed and cried with cheek pressed to cheek, and almost squeezed our hands off in the mutual attempt to make each other feel the pressure which his warm red fist was wont to give.

"And then suddenly--it was at one place where he specially impressed upon me to be sure and take great care of her and watch over her and protect her for his sake--her happiness overwhelmed her, and--I blush to write it down--she fell on her knees before me and pressed her lips to my hand.

"But, though I was much startled, I no longer felt anything of that p.r.i.c.king and gnawing which a little while before, under the Christmas tree, had so sorely beset my bosom. I knew that my guilt was blotted out, and with a free light heart I vowed to myself now indeed to watch like a guardian angel over my sister, who was so much more feeble and in want of direction than I, the foolish and immature child. And she felt this herself, for unresistingly she, who had hitherto treated me as a child, submitted to my guidance.

"At last I had attained the desire of my heart. I had a human being whom I could pet and spoil as much as I pleased; and, now that every barrier between us had fallen, I lavished upon my sister all the tenderness which had for so long been stored up unused within me.

"Father and mother were not a little surprised at the newly-awakened cordiality of our relations to each other, that just latterly had left much to be desired, and Martha herself could hardly grow accustomed to the change. She contemplated me every day in new astonishment, and often said, 'How could I suspect that there was so much love within you?'

"If she could only have known what a sacrifice it cost me to divulge my secret, she would have put a still higher value upon my love.

"Yes, I had rightly guessed how it would be: from the moment when Martha had held the letters in her hand, the happiness of my secret understanding with Robert was at an end for me. Like a stranger he now appeared to me, and when I sat down to write to him I felt like a mere machine that has to copy other people's thoughts. Often I even pa.s.sed on a letter unread to Martha as soon as I received it from the inspector's hands. Sometimes it worried me that I had abused his confidence to such an extent, for he suspected nothing of her knowledge; but when I looked at her, saw her newly-awakening smile and the quiet, dreamy happiness that shone forth from her eyes, I consoled my conscience with the thought that I could not possibly have committed any wrong. So far I had only become his betrayer; soon I was to betray Martha too.

"Winter and spring pa.s.sed by swiftly, and the time came for storing the sheaves in the barns.

"As soon as the harvest was over he intended to come; but before then, he wrote, there was many a hardship to be surmounted.

"One day papa appeared in the kitchen, where we were, with an apparently indifferent air, snuffled about for a while among the pots and pans, and meanwhile kept on slashing at the long leggings of his water-boots with his riding-whip.

"'Why you have become a Paul Pry to-day, papa?' said I.

"He gave a short laugh and remarked, 'Yes, I have become a Paul Pry.'

And when he had for some time longer been running backwards and forwards without speaking, he suddenly stopped in front of Martha and said--