Cloister 
 Wendhusen 
 
 by- 
 W. Heirnburg
 
 FAC* 
 
 S N f : r 
 
 032 
 
 891
 
 Cloister Wendhusen 
 
 * * * * * * by W. 
 
 Translated from the German * - ^ 
 by -g^^if^^^^ Mary E. Almy 
 
 d 
 
 Chicago and New York * * * 
 Rand, McNally & Company
 
 Copyright, 1890, \yy Rund, McNally & Co.
 
 Cloister Wendhusen. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " Now, adieu, Magdalena," said my guardian, and 
 kissed me somewhat shyly on my forehead, while moist- 
 ure glistened in the little, kind eyes. " Adieu, little one, 
 and do not worry about George; I will watch over him. 
 He shall visit me regularly every Sunday, and I will see 
 that on that day he writes you a few lines; and your 
 mother's grave we will keep in good order Christiana 
 and I my child. George goes there often ; isn't that so, 
 my boy? So, I think, that is all, my little one yet, no; 
 you will not take it unkind that I do not go to the sta- 
 tion with you? I have an engagement at 9 o'clock. 
 Christiana can do everything for you, attend to the 
 ticket and luggage, and remember, you change cars at 
 Wolldorf. Do not be afraid of asking questions; it is 
 better to question too much than too little. Someone will 
 meet you at Jenastedt; possibly your aunt, or your Cousin 
 Fernande. Accustom yourself, as soon as may be, to 
 your new and strange surroundings at Wendhusen, and 
 write soon, very soon, to me!" Yet again he took my 
 hand, and with the other stroked my cheek. " No weeping, 
 little one, no weeping!" he said, and went hastily out of 
 the room. 
 
 " Adieu, Uncle!" I had said, softly, and in spite of his 
 command not to weep, the hot tears filled my eyes. 
 
 (5) 
 
 213SS15
 
 6 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 Across the room, against the window, leaned a slender 
 lad of eight years; his arms crossed, and a dark, defiant 
 look on his pretty face, that was framed with an abun- 
 dance of dark curls. 
 
 " You will, truly, George," I entreated, " write to me 
 very often, won't you?" 
 
 He nodded, and turned around. 
 
 " And on mamma's birthday I will send you a wreath, 
 and you will carry it to her grave, dear; I I can not do 
 it any more." The tears almost made the last inaudible. 
 
 " Yes," came short and forced from the lips of the boy. 
 
 " And once in awhile send me a few flowers from her 
 grave; it will almost seem then as if she sent a greeting 
 to me, George " 
 
 "O Lena! Lena!" he cried, passionately, throwing his 
 arms around my neck, sobbing, and clinging to me in 
 impetuous tenderness. " Do not go away. Can you not 
 stay here? Why do you go to our aunt that you know 
 mamma did not like?" 
 
 " I must go, dear heart, I must! " I whispered, pressing 
 my mouth on his curly head. " How can I stay here? 
 Uncle says I ought to be very thankful that aunt will 
 take me; otherwise I should have to go to strangers " 
 
 " But Christiana says the aunt is so proud," he inter- 
 rupted; "suppose she should be hateful to you, Lena?" 
 He bent back, and looked at me with his great, dark eyes, 
 full of intense anxiety. 
 
 " Why should she be, dear?" I answered, seemingly 
 calm, although I was far from feeling so in my heart. 
 
 " Because, Lena, she wouldn't have anything to do with 
 mamma," he declared; "and when the letter came from 
 aunt, when she wrote to uncle you might come to her, I 
 heard Christiana say to herself: 'I knew it! She does 
 not take the poor thing out of love, but so it shall not be
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 7 
 
 said a Fraulein von Demphoff had to take a situation.' 
 Don't you see, Lena?" 
 
 I was silent, and held my little brother close in my 
 arms. Thou dear God, the words he spoke cut into my 
 soul. The sister-in-law of my mother she bore the 
 same name as I, and yet she had never acknowledged 
 mamma; she had not only been unfriendly, but had never 
 noticed her poor relations Ah, yes, it was probable 
 she had taken the niece purely from this motive. 
 
 And I was to go to her to-day! It was already fifteen 
 minutes of 9 o'clock, and the train left about half-past. 
 I looked with sad eyes on my boy, who still clasped me 
 with his arms, the dear little lad! How could I leave 
 him, the only being who belonged to me in the world 
 since our mother died, after a year's illness, and who had 
 loved us O, so dearly! I sank down on the floor and 
 leaned my head against his. " Ah, mamma, mamma, why 
 did you go and leave us?" broke from my lips, in my 
 fear. If she had lived, I should not have to go away, 
 and George would not have to grow up among strangers! 
 Suppose he should be ill; he was so apt to have the 
 quinsy in the winter; and when he coughed, who would 
 be by his bed to hand him hot milk, and pet him and 
 comfort him? No one. A nameless anxiety seized me. 
 I could not go, I said decidedly to myself; I could not 
 leave him even if I had to live in the poorest attic, and 
 sew for our living. 
 
 "Christiana, I can not go, I will not go!" I cried to 
 the old woman who just then entered the room and 
 brought me a cup of bouillon. " I beg you, let me stay 
 here with you! I do not care what I do, only so I can 
 be with George! " 
 
 " I have thought it all over," she nodded, and the white 
 cap nodded, too. "That is just like the blessed Frau
 
 8 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 Mother, who on that account never went out of the 
 house; but this time, there is no help for it; you must go, 
 Fraulein Lena; you can not stay here. Now don't you fret 
 about the boy; he is with good people in the pension. 
 The Frau Doctor, you will see, will take good care of 
 him, and I will look after him, you know that; but I am 
 vexed with him," she said, in quite another tone, " that 
 he should make it so hard for you. What, with his howl- 
 ing and fussing, one would take him for a cry-baby 
 shame on you, George!" She set the cup on the table, 
 and with her hands on her hips, apparently very angry, 
 she looked at the boy, who, at the last words, tore him- 
 self loose from me, and throwing back his head, hastily 
 wiped the tears out of his eyes. " I am not crying," he 
 said, bravely. 
 
 " No, to be sure not; boys must have courage. My 
 Mann, who was a boy with your blessed father, always said 
 there never was a sharper, smarter gentleman in all the 
 world, and it would be strange if his son were different. 
 Now, come, Lenachen," she said, kindly, to me, " drink 
 your broth, for we must go; it is high time; and you, 
 George, you must go back to your class; the hour you 
 were allowed is quite past. Now, say adieu, and be 
 quick about it." 
 
 "Adieu, sister Lena," whispered he in my ear, and 
 again strained his arms around my neck. "I will 
 write soon, and send you flowers; and Lena, when your 
 next birthday comes, will you not be seventeen years 
 old?" 
 
 "Yes, dear; farewell, farewell, my dear, good George," 
 I whispered; "do not get ill, and be very careful when 
 you go bathing, and in the gymnasium. You know 
 mamma was always so anxious. Go often to see uncle, 
 and be industrious in school; send me your reports,
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 9 
 
 won't you? and if Aunt will permit, perhaps you can 
 come in the autumn vacation ." 
 
 " Adieu, Lena, dear Lena! I will do all you say, only 
 do not cry; /am not going to, truly not." 
 
 He rushed out of the room without turning his face. 
 I ran to the window and looked after the delicate, slen- 
 der boy; he was just thrusting his handkerchief into his 
 pocket, then he threw back his head proudly and went 
 on without looking around. What had I not given, had 
 he only turned just once his pretty face to me. With a 
 full heart I left the window. 
 
 "Now forward; hurry!" admonished Christiana, while 
 she threw a hasty glance at the clock that hung over 
 my guardian's writing-desk. " It is quite a distance to 
 the station and the droschke will be here directly, and, 
 FrSulein Lena, I have something to say to you. Your 
 Frau Aunt I have known for many years, from the time 
 I began to serve your parents; when they were first mar- 
 ried, I went with them to Wendhusen. It is very fine there, 
 Fraulein. You will wonder at the castle, the rooms and 
 halls, and the park; you have never seen anything like it. 
 Yes, what I wished to say, your Frau Aunt, the Frau von 
 Demphoff, is a remarkable woman. Cold as ice. Do 
 not think that she will come toward you, as your blessed 
 mother would do when you came back from a walk, so 
 glad to see you that she must take you to her heart and 
 kiss you; first, she isn't your mother, and second, she has 
 no kisses for her own children. At that time they were 
 little things, the eldest perhaps eleven years, and the 
 little girls seven and five years; I never saw the mother, 
 however, caress them. Ah, how very different was your 
 mother, FrJiulein, who scarcely left the nursery for anxiety 
 and watchfulness. How pretty she used to look sitting 
 by your cradle, almost a child herself, just as dainty, and
 
 10 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 little, and slender as you are, with just such dark curls 
 and eyes. 
 
 " But drink your beef tea, Fraulein, drink; I only 
 wanted to tell you this, so you would not wonder if there 
 were no delight and rejoicing on your arrival, and no one 
 particularly well, I am talking too much; you will find 
 it out yourself, child, and your head isn't going to be 
 bitten off, and one can get accustomed to everything, and 
 anyway, it is better than to go among strangers, and 
 be a governess." 
 
 " And, Fraulein Lena, you will not take it amiss that I 
 have said so much," she began, after a pause, and the 
 friendly, earnest face flushed dark-red under the snow- 
 white cap. " You see, FrSulein, I have lived through 
 good and bad days with your Frau Mother, and, poor 
 soul, there were more bad than good; but the dear God 
 sent them, and He knows what is best. I was married 
 from her house, and when your Herr Father died, and 
 your Frau Mother could no longer keep a maid, I was 
 her waiting-woman till now, and I have always meant 
 well, and have done what I could; the blessed mistress 
 knew that. My goodness!" she interrupted herself. 
 "Hurry, Fraulein! put on your hat and veil; the 
 droschke is at the door. There is plenty of time, only 
 hurry. Here is your lunch, some buttered bread, and 
 wine and water. You have no need to say good-bye 
 to anyone else? No; your guardian has gone to 
 market; then, I will lock the door. Have you your 
 pocket-book? Dear sakes, what an untidy house a 
 widower has, to be sure! Don't fall down the stairs, 
 Fraulein, it is so dark there; now, get into the carriage. 
 Coachman, drive fast to the central station." 
 
 I sat, as in a dream, while we spun through the famil- 
 iar streets. The usual throngs were hurrying to and fro.
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 11 
 
 There was the large dry-goods house for which my poor 
 busy mother had sewed so many stitches; there the 
 church, where at Easter I was confirmed; and now we 
 were in the street where we used to live. I bent my head 
 out of the carriage and caught a flying glance. How 
 dreary the three empty windows in the third story 
 looked down at me. Ah, how often from there a loving, 
 gentle face had smiled and nodded to me as I came 
 home from school! For weeks the dreadful black coffin 
 had hid from me those dear features, and the earth now 
 pressed heavily upon it. And farther we went; and the 
 droschke jolted over the uneven road, and Christiana 
 held my hand and talked to me what, I do not know. 
 
 And then the rush at the station; the luggage was 
 checked, the ticket bought, and then the bell rang for 
 the passengers to take the coupes. 
 
 " Conductor, conductor, lady's coup6," called Christi- 
 ana. " See, it is quite empty, child. Now don't lose your 
 ticket; and, Fraulein Lena, remember I will look after 
 and care for George like the apple of my eye. Now, hold 
 your head up like the best; don't go headlong into 
 things, and take what comes with composure but you 
 have a wise little head, like your Frau Mother. God pro- 
 tect you, Lenachen; come again soon to us, and 
 don't forget me and my old man. I shall think often of 
 you. May it go well with you. Nay, nay, be brave; now 
 don't weep like that," and she held my hand as in a vise, 
 while great tears rolled down her cheeks, and her lips 
 trembled and worked in suppressed emotion. Another 
 hand pressure, a last adieu, a last message to George; 
 then a shrill whistle sounded, and, puffing and snorting, 
 the long train set itself in motion. I leaned out of the 
 window for a last look at the tall figure that stood 
 motionless on the platform and held the hand over the
 
 12 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 eyes, the better to watch the slowly-moving train; then I 
 could see her no more, and I leaned back in the seat 
 with a sick feeling of desolation and loss. It seemed to 
 me I was a feather, being whirled around in the pitiless 
 wind, without protection, without support, alone, alone 
 without a home, without a father's house. 
 
 It was the first journey I had ever taken; until now I 
 had never been out of the large town where I was born 
 and had grown up. 
 
 I raised my eyes to the region we were flying through. 
 The steeples of the town were almost lost in the sea of 
 vapor that spread around us; then the train thundered 
 over the great iron bridge; then it cut through green mead- 
 ows, and here and there a white sail showed in the far 
 distance, and finally all became unfamiliar and strange. 
 
 Then came again the sick, frightened feeling, the inex- 
 pressible longing for my little brother. I buried my 
 face in the bolster of the coach, and gave myself up to 
 the luxury of a good cry. 
 
 Then I felt comforted, and also too exhausted to feel 
 keenly any more, and I resigned myself to the present 
 moment and fell into deep thought. My childhood rose 
 before me. I had scarcely left it, and yet in the last few 
 weeks I had grown so old in my feelings. I went far 
 back to the beautiful time when papa was living, and 
 how I would run to the door to meet him, shouting to 
 be tossed up in the air. 
 
 We were not living then in the close, narrow attic- 
 rooms. I saw elegant, comfortable surroundings, and 
 my dainty, high-bred little mother in costly robes. My 
 mother she came before me like a picture out of that 
 time a charming picture. I could not identify this 
 fairy-like creature with the suffering, broken woman 
 of the later days, with the large, hollow eyes that looked
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 13 
 
 out into life with such unspeakable sorrow and grief in 
 their depths. 
 
 Later came a veil over my remembrance. It was to 
 me as if a something was in our home that was paralyz- 
 ing that lay like a pall over its inmates. I- remember 
 that mamma often wept, and that my father would speak 
 loud and sharp to her, and then for days would not 
 come back to the house. 
 
 Only Christiana remained clear to my recollection. I 
 thought she must look to-day just as she looked at that 
 time, when she would stick bonbons in my mouth, or 
 pick me up, almost violently, and carry me down-stairs to 
 the kitchen when the talk was so loud and harsh in my 
 mother's room. And then came one morning a morn- 
 ing I shall remember with bliss as long as I live. Chris- 
 tiana took me, drunk with sleep, out of my little bed, 
 and carried me into my mother's bed-room, and my won- 
 dering eyes fell on a cradle beside her bed, and therein 
 lay asleep my sweet little baby brother. I scarcely 
 know how the time passed after that. I would sit 
 for hours beside his cradle, with my little, earnest face 
 turned to the wee sleeper. I was too intent on my 
 watch to remember to eat or drink. Once my father 
 came into the quiet nursery. He stood by the cradle 
 and looked down on the little one, and as I tried to 
 embrace him lovingly, he almost roughly pushed me back. 
 
 He was a large, proud-looking man, with blonde hair 
 and beard. I remember him so distinctly at this 
 moment, as he slowly turned to my mother, who had 
 just entered and come to the cradle. Then there was a 
 conversation between them, at first in a quiet tone; then 
 suddenly I was filled with fear, for my father caught the 
 slender figure of mother, and pressed her passionately 
 to him and cried out:
 
 14 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 " Elsie, my poor Elsie, would you had never seen me! 
 I am guilty of your unhappiness, and of the children " 
 
 She laid, warningly, her hand on his lips, and pointed 
 to me, and in the same moment that Christiana came 
 and carried me out of the room, I heard the low sobs 
 of my mother. 
 
 Then came the christening, and for the last time our 
 house displayed its elegance and luxury. There were 
 many guests, and I went around the circle, giving my 
 little hand, like a polite, well-trained child. 
 
 On that day I saw my mother for the last time in a 
 colored dress; it was a deep-red silk. She pleased me 
 in it, and her dark, curly head looked very lovely from 
 under the wreath of red fuchsias. 
 
 Soon after that we moved into a smaller dwelling, 
 which grieved me very much. It was a very quiet street 
 in which we now lived, and there were many steps to 
 climb. Then my father went on a journey. In the hour 
 of parting, my mother embraced him, weeping bitterly, 
 and he kissed me and my little brother again and again. 
 Christiana finally came to say it was time for him to go, 
 and as he left the room he said again the words that he 
 so often said those days: " I hope to come back soon, 
 and take you away with me." 
 
 And every night my mother would fold my hands and 
 tell me to pray for the dear father who had gone far, far 
 over the sea so very far. 
 
 How many hundred times have I said that prayer, and 
 tried to see the rocking ship that Christiana described to 
 me. I would shut my eyes and make a picture of a 
 water surface, where one only saw water and sky, so 
 Christiana said, but a little piece of land would shove 
 itself in. 
 
 We lived very quietly. Christiana no longer lived
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 15 
 
 constantly with us. She had married papa's servant, 
 and only came to us certain hours every day. 
 
 George learned to run about, and one day my mother 
 said papa had written that early in the New Year he 
 would come to bring us, and then we would go on the 
 big ship over the wide sea. 
 
 But it was all very different. Father died of one of 
 those terrible diseases that often attack a foreigner in 
 that climate. I did not know then what it meant to lose 
 him. I only felt my mother was in great trouble when 
 I saw her, half mad with pain and grief, pace up and 
 down the narrow room, and heard her despairing moans; 
 but I learned to realize the truth, for want came to us 
 the bitterest want. 
 
 My mother gave herself up to the most sombre grief. 
 She worked now for money, and taught my childish 
 hands also to work. White and still she sat at the win- 
 dow, and the only movement was the delicate little 
 hands that unceasingly drew the thread through the 
 fine cambric. 
 
 Only sometimes when George would come and fondle 
 her, and she looked into the loving eyes, then she would 
 break out into tears, and throw her work away and clasp 
 him in her arms. " My child, my poor children," she 
 would cry, and it would be hours before she could com- 
 pose herself. 
 
 As time went on she grew resigned. A wonderful will 
 dwelt in that delicate body. If I awoke in the night, I 
 would see her at the table sewing, and when the day 
 dawned she was again at her work. 
 
 Then I was sent to school, and it was at this time 
 that I first knew I had an aunt. My guardian had urged 
 my mother to apply to the wife of my dead uncle for 
 assistance. I well remember when the answer came, how
 
 16 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 deathly white my mother looked when she sank back in 
 her chair after reading the letter. " They hold me 
 guilty!" she said, half aloud; " guilty of his misfortune! " 
 
 And " I am guilty!" she repeated over and over, till 
 Christiana appeared. 
 
 " Christiana, I am guilty of our misfortune," said she, 
 with a pitiful moan. " I am the cause of my husband's 
 death." 
 
 Christiana took the letter, and, after reading it, threw 
 it into the stove. She trembled with anger, but only 
 said: "Don't you weep, Madam; it isn't worth your tears." 
 
 Dear mamma was taken ill that day, very ill; and 
 when she recovered she was the still, broken-spirited 
 woman she remained to the end. She talked with us; 
 she laughed also; but it was quite different from the old 
 days. 
 
 So I grew up under this pressure of work, deprived of 
 all amusements, and yet joyful as a child in the happiest 
 circumstances. I thought it so beautiful, in our man- 
 sard dwelling with the ivy running around the walls. It 
 was so lovely when Christiana would take us walking on 
 Sunday, and would buy us buns with her money. And 
 O, the afternoon hour! As I sat at the window busy with 
 my sewing, and the clock in St. John's tower across the 
 way struck 4, how quickly I would lean out of 
 the window and watch for the sight of the dear little fig- 
 ure that would come bounding up the street, on the full 
 run, around the corner, and up the steps, our darling, 
 our hearts' delight! 
 
 The school-boy flew to the nearest chair, the lunch- 
 box landed on the table, and our sweet little mother 
 looked with kindling eyes to see how he bit into the 
 bread with his strong young teeth, the bread that sister 
 Lena had spread very thinly.
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 17 
 
 The long winter evenings were beautiful in our little 
 room, and dear were the summer afternoons, when we 
 went walking or sat with our sewing in the shady park. 
 
 And doubly dear all this seemed to me, now I was to 
 lose it and go among strangers! Like a hateful dream 
 came up to me the black coffin; the strange people that 
 took it away; Christiana weeping; and afterward the 
 uncomfortable life at my guardian's, with his untidy 
 housekeeper. 
 
 How fast events had rushed on! how the time had 
 flown! I awakened first to a realizing sense of what had 
 befallen me, when they said I must be separated from 
 George, and that my aunt had had the goodness to take 
 me into her home. This was a trial more overwhelm- 
 ing than the death of my mother, for she had looked so 
 peaceful in death there was such a blessed smile around 
 the sweet lips. 
 
 "It is well with her," Christiana had said. "It is well 
 with her." 
 
 We had taken no farewell of her. One night she 
 fell into a sweet slumber, and from the earthly sleep she 
 passed into the other; yes it was well with her, but 
 we my little brother 
 
 The hot tears rushed into my eyes, but I pressed my lips 
 together and looked out into the smiling landscape we 
 were passing through. Yellow waved the corn fields in 
 the wind, here and there lay a town in the shadow of 
 old oaks, and over all the cloudless blue heavens. Was 
 there sorrow and pain in the world?
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Finally the locomotive whistled for the last time, and 
 the train rolled into the terminus. 
 
 "Jenastedt," cried the conductor, as he threw open 
 the door of the coupe. 
 
 With throbbing heart I bent out and peered around. 
 Some ladies were standing on the platform, but they 
 hastened eagerly to another coupe 1 . Several gentlemen 
 were talking in groups; one of them raised his lorgnette 
 to his eye and stared at me boldly, but no one 
 came to find me, and timidly I descended, filled with 
 anxiety. 
 
 " Baggage to be taken to the town, FrSulein?" asked 
 a baggage-man. 
 
 " No, I think " I replied, all the time looking right 
 
 and left; "I wish to go to Wendhusen, and " 
 
 " There is a carriage there, from Wendhusen, FrUulein, 
 the cloister coach, and old Gottlieb. You are a stranger? 
 Well, go around there, around the house, and give me 
 your luggage checks and I will take your things to the 
 carriage." 
 
 I followed the direction and stepped around the 
 building; a hotel carriage was just driving away. 
 
 In another very handsome equipage sat some ladies, 
 the same I had seen on the platform. There was only one 
 other conveyance there, a remarkably uninviting-look- 
 ing coach, with half the top thrown back, and which 
 appeared to stand very shaky on its wheels. On the 
 
 (18)
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 19 
 
 high seat sat an old man, as straight as a candle, hold- 
 ing the reins with all the dignity possible belonging to 
 his calling; his brown livery coat was much the worse 
 for wear, and the horses were in striking contrast to 
 their driver's erect bearing, for their tired heads hung 
 nearly to the ground. 
 
 I drew near to the shabby old coach. 
 
 "Is this a carriage from Wendhusen?" I asked the 
 coachman. 
 
 "Yes, Fraulein,".he replied, taking off his cap, and 
 hurriedly scrambling down from the box. 
 
 " Pardon, Fraulein-; I thought Anna was at the plat- 
 form to meet you. God knows where she is," he con- 
 tinued angrily to himself as he opened the carriage door. 
 
 " Please get in, Fraulein; she must be back directly. 
 She went to do an errand in the town for Frau von 
 Riedingen; we have waited long enough already for 
 her." 
 
 I got in, leaned back, and waited. It was hot, and 
 on this side of the building the sun lay in its full 
 power. My luggage had long since been fastened on 
 the carriage; the coachman sat on his box again, with an 
 impatient scowl on his face; the horses now and then 
 switched off a fly; the highway which stretched away in 
 the distance to the town showed no one who appeared 
 to belong to us. 
 
 A quarter of an hour passed, then another; the old 
 man murmured an oath, and evidently would enjoy 
 going on and leaving the "Anna" behind. 
 
 I shut my eyes for very weariness, and from the many 
 tears I had shed, my head ached fearfully. Finally I heard 
 a voice, and there behind the carriage stood a stout little 
 person, almost smaller than I, in a light summer dress, 
 with innumerable ruffles, and under the large straw hat,
 
 20 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 much-trimmed with field flowers and blue ribbon, I saw 
 a very round face, flushed to a dark red, with small eyes 
 that were at this moment directed on a little boy who 
 held a large box, almost as large as himself; the cover 
 had slipped to one side and a white mull texture was 
 shoved into view. 
 
 " For heaven's sake! " she cried out. " You wiH let the 
 whole dress fall out, you awkward clown." She took the 
 box from him and placed it on the back seat, so that I 
 was obliged to straighten myself up from my comfort- 
 able position, and sit as bolt upright as old Gottlieb, 
 in order not to bring my black, dust-covered dress in 
 contact with the airy, immaculate contents box. Then the 
 little person sat herself opposite me with a short " Good 
 day," drawing on her lisle-thread gloves. " Now, hurry, 
 Gottlieb, it is high time ; it must be nearly half-past 
 4 o'clock, and my mistress makes her toilet at 6, 
 and heaven protect me if we do not get there." 
 
 " You should have thought of that before," growled 
 the old man; "they are both too old," pointing with his 
 whip to the horses. " Why haven't you been punctual? 
 The Fraulein must have nearly burned up in the heat." 
 
 " Was it my fault that the dressmaker didn't have the 
 dress ready?" she asked, pertly, without being in the least 
 embarrassed before me. " Of course I had to wait for 
 the dress; that was my duty, and you must get me to 
 the house at the right time. That is your duty." 
 
 " That's all well enough to say," nodded the old man, 
 taking his erect position; " but I can't do any more than 
 I can. Your mistress should have sent Friedrich with 
 the chestnut horse ; then she could have had her fur- 
 belows at the right time. What will be, will be. 
 Get up! " he cried out, clicking with his tongue, and with 
 slow steps the horses set themselves in motion.
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 21 
 
 Oh, how lovely it was to ride in a carriage ! I forgot 
 all fear as we now reached the height of the road that 
 led up over a wooded hill. Then, below wound a little 
 rushing stream through a waving green meadow; and 
 opposite, again, arose a wooded mountain-ridge, and 
 behind this, blue mountains raised themselves, and there 
 were valleys, and mountains, and woods as far as the eye 
 could see, in wonderful, luxurious freshness. The small 
 eyes under the straw hat looked much amused at my 
 enthusiasm, as I said aloud: " How glorious! " But old 
 Gottlieb turned himself around and his face beamed. 
 
 " Yes, truly, Fraulein, it is beautiful with us; and see 
 there behind the high mountain lays Wendhusen; it is 
 truly a bit of Paradise that we have here." 
 
 " Ah, yes, indeed it is beautiful," I assented, as I 
 looked up into the tops of the old oaks and beeches, for 
 we were now driving through the woods. 
 
 " This isn't anything, gracious Fraulein ; wait until 
 you get into our own forest. You have never seen such 
 trees, such giants. These are nothing," he said, dis- 
 paragingly, pointing to the trees around. " Yes, our 
 master had his greatest pleasure in the woods, and the 
 entire province can not show such a forest." And 
 the horses slowly trotted along through the smiling 
 region. 
 
 " That is Flissen," he turned back again to say after 
 a while, as a stately castle became visible through the 
 green tree-tops; "that belongs to the Baron Stelten. 
 Pr-r-r," called he, suddenly, at the same time pulling his 
 horses back hastily, and in the same moment flew close 
 in front of us, out of an avenue, a light carriage, and 
 turned into the main road. It was drawn by a hand- 
 some pair of bay horses, and two ladies sat on the 
 coachman's seat.
 
 22 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 For an instant I saw a young face under a white veil 
 glance at me with indifference. Of the lady by her side, 
 who was driving, I only caught a glimpse of abundant 
 yellow hair coiled low on the neck, and a small hat on 
 the proudly-carried head. On the back seat sat a serv- 
 ant in livery with crossed arms. Quick as an arrow, they 
 were by us and away, leaving a cloud of dust behind 
 them. 
 
 " Heavens! my mistress! If they go to the house and 
 
 find the dress not there . Gottlieb, do drive faster," 
 
 cried my neighbor, impatiently. 
 
 "Really," I interrupted, surprised, "was that my 
 cousin, Frau von Riedingen?" 
 
 " Frau von Riedingen, surely," she replied, with a half- 
 compassionate glance. " She has Fraulein Stelten with 
 her; she is going to take her to the reunion at D . 
 The Fraulein has lost her parents, and the gracious Frau 
 is very fond of her, and hopes she will be " 
 
 She cleared her throat and was silent. 
 
 I was silent also. 
 
 My pleasure in my drive was gone. The old, sick, anx- 
 ious feeling came back, as I saw the elegant appearance of 
 my cousin, and another feeling that of shame and 
 mortification. No one had gone to meet me. I was 
 being brought in the old cloister coach, and seated beside 
 my cousin's maid! But had not Christiana prophesied 
 that? Had she not said no one would be glad to see me? 
 
 I felt my face was scarlet. Proudly I sat erect upon 
 the seat and whispered to myself: " Be calm, and hold 
 your head up." 
 
 " If mamma knew this . How glad I am she does 
 
 not know." 
 
 " There begins our forest, Fraulein," said Gottlieb, 
 pointing with his whip to the wealth of wood foliage in
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 23 
 
 front of us, " and see, over there, the cupola among the 
 trees? That is the mausoleum. Our master has lain 
 therein fourteen years." He turned around to me with 
 a simple-hearted, compassionate, little nod of his head. 
 "Yes, yes; if he were alive " 
 
 " You will be doing a great deal better if you drive 
 faster, than giving the Fraulein information about the 
 country," broke in my neighbor, with a sharp voice. "If 
 I get home too late with the things, I shall say that your 
 dawdling was the cause." 
 
 The old man flushed dark red. 
 
 " Look here, Miss Anna," said he, with emphasis, and 
 turned entirely around to her, " you are talking to me, 
 to the old coachman, Gottlieb, who gave satisfaction 
 for twenty long years to his blessed master. I allow no 
 human creature to give me any commands when on my 
 coachman's seat; and if I have the worst carriage that 
 stands in the coach-house, and the oldest horses there 
 are to draw it, I am the same that I always was, and I 
 am not under your orders. You know what I mean. I 
 was sent to fetch the young lady here. You took the 
 opportunity to go with me, and to come back with me to 
 the house again and that's all there is to it!" 
 
 " I will tell my mistress what you have said," retorted 
 the waiting-maid, angrily. 
 
 The old man did not answer. 
 
 " And my mistress will tell the master how you obey 
 her commands." 
 
 " That is the best thing you can do," he murmured. 
 
 " I beg you to drive a little faster, Gottlieb," said I 
 now, for every moment in the coach with my pert neigh- 
 bor seemed an eternity. 
 
 "Very well, gracious FrUulein," he replied, and urged 
 on the horses.
 
 24 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 We were already in the park, and the cool breeze in 
 the shady woods blew refreshingly on my burning eyes. 
 My heart was beating painfully, however, from anger 
 and sorrow. How uncomfortable, how humiliating it 
 was to me to feel 
 
 My glance flew along the road ahead of us; any 
 moment would the cloister come in sight in which I 
 must now live. If I had been going to a real cloister 
 I could not have felt more fear than at that moment. 
 
 A plow-boy was coming toward us. As he came near 
 I could understand the words: 
 
 Es thut die Fremde dem Herzen nicht wohl, 
 Ich wlisst' schon wohin ich wandern soil. 
 Herr Fater, Frau Mutter, du Stadtchen im Thai, 
 Ich griiss Euch, ich griiss viel tausand Mai. 
 
 Mein MSdchen, du brauchst zu grEmen Dich nicht, 
 Dem Fremdling bringst Niemand ein freundlich Gesicht 
 Fremd ist er und wird's in der Fremde stets sein ; 
 O Heimath, O Heimath, du Sehnsucht mein! 
 
 He pulled off his cap to me as we passed him. He 
 was so young could he really know what homesickness 
 meant? I looked after him as long as he was in sight, 
 until Gottlieb's voice made me turn my head back again. 
 
 " There is the cloister," said he, pointing to high- 
 pointed gable roofs that rose above the tops of the trees, 
 " and below you can see the villa." 
 
 The villa? a throng of questions rose to my lips. I 
 knew so little of the persons with whom I was to live; 
 Christiana had told me so little of them. Only through 
 mamma's short intimations had I learned that an aunt 
 existed, and that she had two sons and two daughters, 
 one of whom was already married. In whom could I 
 confide? To whom could I turn? 
 
 " There will be no rejoicing, child, when you arrive."
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 25 
 
 Those words of Christiana's rang in my ears again and 
 again. 
 
 Outwardly calm, I saw, as we drew near, the white walls 
 which gleamed out from the foliage of the trees; another 
 bend, and there it lay before me like a wonder out of 
 fairy-land that small, charming, almost miniature castle. 
 The evening sun bathed it in rosy light, and made the 
 marble statues on balcony and steps seem almost warm 
 with life. A velvety, green lawn spread itself before the 
 place, and was dotted here and there with beds of flowers 
 that shone out like brilliant jewels, and these surrounded 
 a sandstone basin, out of which spouted a crystal, clear 
 stream, whose splashing alone broke the deep stillness. 
 
 Charmed, I gazed at the beautiful building that stood 
 there so airy and light, with its many balconies and its 
 columned vestibule. Lovely climbing roses ran luxuri- 
 ously around the delicate balustrade of the veranda, and 
 hundreds of the pale-pink blooms sent their fragrance 
 toward me. 
 
 It was like this that Christiana had described to me 
 the castles in the fairy-stories that amused my child- 
 hood. If George could only see it George! that 
 
 one word brought me back to stern reality. 
 
 The carriage stopped, my neighbor sprang nimbly out 
 and vanished, with her box, behind the high, glass door. 
 The old man glanced, listening, after her. 
 
 " Remain where you are, FrSulein," said he, " some- 
 body will come directly." 
 
 I waited a moment; everything was quiet, no one 
 came. Resolute, I got out. 
 
 " I will care for the luggage," called the old man after 
 me. Then I heard the carriage roll away. 
 
 I stood now alone in the strange house, and dared not 
 go forward. No sound came to my ear. I felt like turning
 
 26 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 and running after old Gottlieb and entreating him: 
 " Drive me away again, as far as your tired horses can 
 go only away from this house, where no one welcomes 
 me, where there is no loving word for the fatherless and 
 motherless girl." 
 
 So I stood, motionless, in the middle of the steps. My 
 heart beat, until it seemed as if I could hear it. In my 
 timidity I dared not go farther; the tears flooded my eyes. 
 
 Hark! was that not a step, the rustle of a dress? I 
 held my breath; yes, I could see a white garment through 
 the delicate carving of the baluster, and a slender girl's 
 figure flew up the stairs that led to the upper floor; a 
 head of golden hair shone a moment down to me, then 
 it vanished; I heard a door open and shut, then all was 
 still. 
 
 Involuntarily I followed her; it was surely my cousin; 
 perhaps the maid had not A step sounded a serv- 
 ant carrying a salver, with seltzer water and sugar, 
 appeared. 
 
 "Please inform Frau von Demphoff her niece has 
 come, and wishes to speak with her," said I to him. 
 
 " Very well," he replied, as he stepped down the hall, 
 after throwing me a surprised glance, and opened a 
 door. " Be kind enough to enter; I will go directly to 
 My Lady." 
 
 Therewith he vanished behind a thick, violet-blue cur- 
 tain into the room. 
 
 " My Lady begs you to enter," he said, holding back 
 the portieres much too high for my little person, and I 
 walked in. On the opposite side of the room, at a 
 writing-desk, sat a woman with her back to me, busily 
 writing. 
 
 " In a moment," said a sharp voice, as if apologizing. 
 " I am almost done; sit down sit down, meanwhile."
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 27 
 
 I had plenty of time to examine the elegant appoint- 
 ments of the room, portieres, furniture, hangings, carpet 
 all were of a violet-blue color. Over the writing-table 
 hung a large picture, in an oval frame, of a young man 
 a handsome face, with dark eyes and somewhat haughty, 
 full lips, that were ornamented by a bold mustache. He 
 wore a cuirassier uniform. The white coat was very 
 becoming to his fresh complexion. 
 
 Over an arm-chair, that stood beside a group of 
 exotic plants hung the companion to that picture. It 
 was a rare piece of art work, the marvelously-painted 
 cream-white satin of the dress, the fine lace, and the 
 wealth of golden hair; the beautifully-formed shoulders 
 rose out of the creamy stuff, and the neck carried an 
 ideally-formed head, that was turned in half-profile to 
 the beholder; a fine, straight nose and large, dark eyes, 
 and around the rosy mouth a child-like, innocent smile 
 all made a very lovely picture. 
 
 The writer made a movement. She pushed back her 
 chair and rose. I went toward her instinctively some 
 steps before I dared to raise my eyes; and when I did, I 
 saw a pair of cold, gray eyes, that looked at me with a 
 strange, indifferent glance. By nature I do not weep 
 easily, and to be pitied by anyone was always very 
 annoying to me, painfully so; but the last few weeks it 
 seemed, as Christiana expressed it, as if I were made of 
 water, and now the great drops hung heavy upon my eye- 
 lids, but in a trice I had wiped them away; no new ones 
 dared to come. I would not cry before those cold eyes, 
 not for the world. They looked as if they would not 
 know what tears meant, would not know that they were 
 fountains which gushed forth out of deepest pain. 
 
 No, I could not show her how unhappy I was, how I 
 mourned for my mother, what a longing I had for
 
 28 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 George, and my sickening feeling of abandonment. I 
 bit my lips, and raised my eyes gloomily to her. 
 
 "When did you come?" she asked, pointing to a chair 
 and sitting down herself. She sat very erect with her 
 hands lightly folded in her lap. 
 
 "More than half an hour ago," I replied. 
 
 " Why did you not come to me directly?" 
 
 "Because no one paid any attention to me, and 
 I did not know where to go," was on my tongue's end, 
 but I kept it back with commendable restraint, and before 
 I could frame my answer a door hastily opened, the 
 blue curtain was flung aside, and a young woman came 
 in the room. I recognized at the first glance the 
 original of the picture over the arm-chair, only at this 
 moment the beautiful neck was covered with a lace- 
 trimmed combing-cloth, and a richly embroidered white 
 robe trailed behind her. 
 
 "Mammachen!" said a soft, languid, caressing voice 
 and on the pretty pink-and-white face was an unmistak- 
 able pout " I am sorry to complain to you, but Gottlieb 
 has been very rude to Anna and she desires satisfaction. 
 Will you not say to Gerhardt that he must rectify it?" 
 
 By this time she was across the room, and stood in 
 front of her mother with her back turned to me. In the 
 puffs of her blonde hair glistened, here and there, a bril- 
 liant, and two dark roses were carelessly placed on the 
 coiffure. 
 
 " I am sure, dear mamma, you do not approve of this 
 rude fellow's insolence. Unfortunately, Gerhardt can 
 never be persuaded to say an angry word to the old 
 sneak. Even Melanie Stelten is indignant. You have 
 no idea how impudent he was. Moreover, that child 
 
 should be here. Have you " The next moment the 
 
 beautiful face had turned to me.
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 29 
 
 " Ah," she said, slowly, and the large almond-shaped 
 eyes looked at me with a cool, critical stare. "She 
 hasn't a feature of the Demphoffs; doesn't she look as 
 if she came straight from the gypsies, mamma?" she 
 asked, reaching her hand to me, but scarcely touching 
 mine. "Evidently, you must resemble your mother, 
 or do you not? I believe she had a dangerous 
 beauty " 
 
 " Fernande, do you know where Charlotte is?" hastily 
 interrupted the old lady. "I have not seen her since 
 this noon. Heaven knows where she has hid herself." 
 
 " Here I am," laughed a fresh, young voice, and the 
 slender girl's figure that I had seen flying through the 
 vestibule stood in the room. The sunniest smile lay on 
 the girlish face; two long, yellow, glittering braids hung 
 down her back. One could see the two were sisters 
 from the strong resemblance, and yet no two could 
 be more unlike in manner than they. 
 
 " O, the little cousin!" she cried, still laughing and 
 hurrying to me; "welcome, Lena; that is the name, 
 isn't it?" she continued, stretching out both hands to me. 
 " You see, I remembered your name from your guard- 
 ian's letter; and how little you are!" She laughed and 
 shook her head until the braids flew. 
 
 " Do not be childish," rebuked her mother, and stood 
 up. " Go now and make your toilet; Melanie von 
 Stelten is already here, and it is high time." 
 
 " I am not going, mamma," declared the girl, 
 emphatically, as she turned from me. 
 
 " But, Lotta," cried the sister, " you are not in earnest, 
 dear?" 
 
 " Yes," she persisted, " I have no desire, this lovely 
 summer evening, to shut myself up in a stiflingly hot 
 hall and dance in the intolerable heat. Gerhardt is
 
 30 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 of my opinion. I had rather go for an hour's walk in 
 the park; it will be pleasanter and healthier." 
 
 "You see, mamma," pettishly said the young woman, 
 " Gerhardt is of her opinion. Whenever it concerns 
 carrying out her crazy freaks, she appeals to him. I 
 think," she turned to the young girl, " you have strolled 
 enough in the park to-day, and " 
 
 "And I forbid these excursions, once for all, Char- 
 lotte, now that Robert is here. It is not at all proper 
 for you; you are no longer a child," commanded Frau 
 von Demphoff. "Were you with Aunt Edith to-day?" 
 she asked, imperatively, as the young face before her 
 flushed and the pretty head drooped. 
 
 " Yes," she answered, firmly, again raising her head, 
 " to-day, as every day. I see no reason to remain away 
 because Robert came. We have played together as 
 children, and besides, we are cousins; moreover, Robert 
 is no longer here." 
 
 She turned hastily and left the room. 
 
 " You see how it is. What can we do?" complained 
 the sister. " Gerhardt is always on her side, and we are 
 powerless, mamma!" 
 
 She stopped suddenly; from the adjoining room came 
 the sound of a man's voice soft and appeasing, as one 
 speaks to a child. 
 
 "You will accompany them, little one, if mamma is 
 so desirous you should, won't you?" The young woman 
 stepped into the room where her brother was. 
 
 "I am very glad, dear Gerhardt," we heard her say, 
 "that you have so decided. She had set up her irritat- 
 ing obstinacy again to-day, although she knew very well 
 that they gave the tiresome party on her account. Do 
 go, Lotta, and make your toilet," she begged. 
 
 " Your boy is in great delight, Fernande,"said the man's
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 31 
 
 voice again; " I just saw him in the stable; he sat, shouting 
 for joy, on the back of one of Gottlieb's old horses." 
 
 " That is absurd; it is revolting! Gerhardt, I hope you 
 took him off immediately. Mademoiselle is a very un- 
 trustworthy person if she would allow him to be put on 
 the horse. I suppose if he should fall off, and come 
 under the horse's hoofs, it would be an unfortunate acci- 
 dent! No one would hold himself responsible!" 
 
 She spoke excitedly, and her voice had become 
 somewhat sharp. 
 
 " No, I did not take him down; Gottlieb held him with 
 both hands, as he held you, when you were a child, 
 Fernande. I remember it very distinctly," he said, 
 quietly. 
 
 " I will not permit it; he shall not have anything to do 
 with my child. I distrust him. He is constantly doing 
 something to irritate me. He was extremely rude to 
 Anna to-day, and declared to her he didn't care whether 
 I received my dress at the right time or not, and posi- 
 tively refused to drive any faster." 
 
 " I will inquire into the matter, Terra," he replied, 
 calmly. 
 
 " It isn't necessary, as long as I have told you," she 
 pouted; "besides, Gerhardt," she continued, after a 
 moment's thought, " we have a witness here." The next 
 moment the beautiful face of the young woman appeared 
 between the portieres, and looked over to me, who. still 
 sat in hat and wrap, in the same place as when I entered. 
 My aunt had already begun writing again, and apparently 
 had not noticed the talk between her children. 
 
 " Cousin," the voice was really sharp now, " was not 
 Gottlieb very impudent to my Anna?" 
 
 I do not know how it came; perhaps there lay too much 
 bold challenge in her glance, to deny her question if I
 
 32 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 dared, or perhaps the abhorrence of the lie entirely over- 
 came my shyness; at any rate, I answered " No" in no 
 uncertain tone. " Gottlieb was very much provoked with 
 her, for we had to wait a frightfully long time for her, 
 and " 
 
 The blonde head vanished, and directly after a silvery 
 laugh struck my ear. Lotta was evidently much amused 
 at my frankness. 
 
 "What? Did Fraulein von Demphoff come with your 
 maid?" questioned Cousin Gerhardt's deep voice. " How 
 did that happen, Ferra? You promised to bring her your- 
 self." 
 
 " Heavens, Gerhardt yes I I would have done it 
 but afterward I remembered that I promised Melanie 
 von Stelten to take her for a drive; so I went to the 
 cloister and told Gottlieb to go, and then Anna could 
 go with him at the same time; I Do not be angry, Ger- 
 hardt," she said, caressingly; "the child has arrived safe 
 and sound." 
 
 He did not answer; but at that moment a man's form 
 came between the blue curtains. I almost cried aloud 
 from astonishment and terror. This tall, slender man 
 so resembled my father, feature for feature, as he so 
 clearly lived in my remembrance. The same wealth of 
 blonde hair and beard, the same clear eyes that were 
 there searching for me, only there was a slight pallor on 
 the face, which denoted imperfect health, and I noticed 
 that he stooped somewhat as he walked. 
 
 " Welcome to Wendhusen," he said, coming over to 
 me, and he was evidently surprised; "but I see you are still 
 in hat and mantle. Pardon the ladies who have no thought 
 for anything but the reunion to-day. Without doubt 
 mamma has already informed you that she has made 
 arrangements for you to live with Aunt Edith, tempo-
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 33 
 
 rarily. The life here in the house might be painful to 
 you, while your grief is so recent." 
 
 I looked anxiously into his face. Where were they 
 going to take me? 
 
 My aunt turned around. " I had not yet told her, 
 Gerhardt," she said, slowly. " Ferra came with her griev- 
 ance, and then the letter I am glad you have taken the 
 matter in your own hands. You must be tired, child," she 
 said, turning to me, a cold friendliness in her manner. 
 " It is better for you to go over at once." 
 
 " Since when was this settled?" asked Fernande, 
 coming suddenly into the room. "Yesterday you were 
 very decided in your views to the contrary on this point." 
 
 "Mamma kindly adopted my proposition early this 
 morning," replied Gerhardt, pleasantly, but not without 
 irony. " A young woman in mourning would be very 
 annoying to you, Ferra, quite setting aside her own 
 feelings." 
 
 "A young woman!" laughed the beautiful woman. 
 " Why, Gerhardt, where are your eyes? Look at the little 
 one; she is a child, a veritable child, and under-sized at 
 that. Pooh, what eyes she can make, when she looks up 
 from under her brows in that way! Aunt Edith will be 
 delighted to have such an acquisition." 
 
 "All the better for her, if she is still a child," he 
 replied, quietly, without looking at me, during this per- 
 sonal description. " I hope, above all things, that Aunt 
 Edith may find enjoyment in her young companion." 
 
 " You are right, dear Gerhardt," she said, in a changed 
 voice, in which one could not recognize the least impa- 
 tience; " take her to Aunt Edith, so far as I am con- 
 cerned; if she wishes also a dozen cats, she is welcome 
 to them. Moreover, I have no more time. You will 
 accompany me to D ? Melanie is going with me." 
 a
 
 84 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 " I am very sorry, sister, but I do not feel equal to-day 
 to the fatigue of a ball " 
 
 "You are not well, Gerhardt?" she interrupted him, 
 and laid her delicate hands on his shoulders, looking at 
 him with the most tender anxiety. " Dearest, best Ger- 
 hardt, why did you not tell me so directly? I assuredly 
 should not have permitted a word of the reunion 
 naturally, I should have remained at home." 
 
 He turned from her impatiently. " I pray you, Ferra, to 
 desist," he said. " You know this excessive sympathy for 
 such trifling matters is decidedly unpleasant to me." 
 
 " Trifling, Gerhardt?" she asked, tenderly. " No, I do 
 not look at it so. How ill you look, dearest Gerhardt! 
 Not another word to me of the reunion. Mamma may 
 take Lotta and Melanie; I shall remain with you." 
 
 " I prefer you would not, however," he said, coldly; " and 
 as a proof that I am not such an object of suffering 
 and sympathy as you seem to think, I will tell you that 
 I have an appointment with the Inspector, to look over 
 his accounts; consequently, you would only disturb me; 
 therefore, go and amuse yourself, if you can. Before 
 anything else, however," he stepped to the door and 
 pulled the bell-cord, " respect must be paid to Fraulein 
 von Demphoff." 
 
 " Mother," he turned to the old lady, who was still 
 writing, " have you any suggestions in regard to our 
 guest?" 
 
 " No," she replied, shortly, without taking the trouble 
 to turn around. 
 
 " Have you informed Joachim I take it you are writ- 
 ing to him that the price of the bloodhound is consid- 
 erably beyond my consideration?" 
 
 " No," she answered, even more shortly, " I will buy 
 the hound of him."
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 35 
 
 " You, mamma?" He looked over to her, evidently 
 unpleasantly surprised. " Very well," he continued, " he 
 was too high-priced for me." 
 
 At this moment a neat house-maid entered. 
 
 " Will you have the goodness," he turned to me and 
 said kindly, -'to follow the maid? She will see that you 
 get the rest and refreshment that you must surely need." 
 
 I got up and said adieu to my aunt. 
 
 " Adieu, my child," she replied, turning around and giv- 
 ing me a cursory glance. 
 
 I turned to take leave of my cousin, Ferra, and found 
 she was no longer present. Gerhardt accompanied me 
 to the stairs. 
 
 " I will come to-morrow, and learn how you have 
 rested, Cousin," said he, pleasantly; " in advance I will 
 wish you a refreshing sleep." 
 
 It was after sunset. The twilight lay over the earth, 
 when I followed my leader through the carpeted corri- 
 dor and down the marble steps. The cool evening air 
 was very acceptable on my heated face. The road through 
 the park, into which we turned, lay in deep shadow. I 
 turned once again my head to look back at the fairy- 
 house I had just left. Its white walls shone out from 
 the dark background of the trees, and its contour stood 
 out sharply on the evening sky. The spray of the foun- 
 tain splashed softly in the granite basin, and made the 
 broad, fan-shaped leaves of the surrounding plants sway 
 and nod, and out of the luxuriant thickets gleamed the 
 marble statues in dazzling whiteness. How lovely it was 
 here! and yet if I could only have run away away as 
 far as my tired feet could carry me to George, to Chris- 
 tiana to anybody that would look at me with kind eyes; 
 that would affectionately call me "Lena, dear Lena," 
 What had I in common with these people? They would
 
 36 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 never love me; I was only a burden to them that they 
 would endeavor to make as easy as possible. Heaven- 
 wide was the distance between us; disdain, raillery, and 
 cold, business-like friendship, that was what would be 
 given out to the stranger child. And now, where were 
 they taking me? Who was this Aunt Edith, and what 
 did the beautiful young woman mean, with her allusion 
 to the cats? Mechanically, I followed the girl through 
 the intricate way. 
 
 " It is not far to the cloister," she began in a friendly 
 tone; "you can already hear the singing." 
 
 I listened. Was I going then into a real cloister? But 
 no; that was no holy anthem. A quite familiar folk-song 
 came to my ear: 
 
 " Oh, wert thou in the cold blast." 
 
 " Where is the singing?" I asked. 
 
 " In the servants' quarters, under the linden," was the 
 answer. " It is the girls and boys; it is after working 
 hours see, there is the cloister; and behind the lighted 
 windows above, lives your Aunt Edith." 
 
 There it lay before me, in the dusk of the gathering 
 night, awesome, massive, and gloomy that long, irregu- 
 lar building, that was now to be my home. An iron gate 
 separated me from the front garden that bounded the 
 wings of the cloister, which were connected with it at 
 right angles. The double gate was thrown open; I saw 
 the girl step into the drive-way, and heard her feet on 
 the gravel on the other side of the gate. 
 
 My eyes were fixed on the gloomy structure. The 
 lower windows were barred with iron, like a prison, and 
 the wing at my left, confined by a high wall, had closed 
 shutters. The whole made an unspeakably uncomfort- 
 able impression upon me.
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 37 
 
 I had hung behind; the maid came back for me; hesi- 
 tating, I stepped over the carriage-drive and through the 
 gate; we walked around a grass-plat enclosed with iron 
 chains; in the middle stood a sandstone urn filled with 
 trailing vines; a large, iron-bound door that opened into 
 the right wing, led direct to a broad, massive, wooden 
 stairway. Cool, moist air enveloped me; I shuddered 
 and drew back before the uncanny darkness that lay 
 under the arched hall; involuntarily, I thought of ghostly 
 apparitions, that unheard would come toward the 
 stranger, angry at the intrusion into the consecrated 
 rooms; then I heard tripping little steps behind me, and 
 children's voices, and little heads peered behind the 
 house door. 
 
 "Cats' aunt! Cats' aunt! " they called to one another, 
 and a high-pitched, piping little voice sang: 
 
 " Dacht" es fiel 'ne Katz ; von der Bank, 
 Ein Kind nur war es, Gott sei Dank." 
 
 Shrilly it rang back from the high, stonewalls; I stood 
 where I was; the girl, however, turned, and as swift as a 
 weasel, rushed back down the stairs and, fortunately, 
 seized one of the little screamers by the jacket. 
 
 "Are you not ashamed of yourself? You naughty 
 child! " she cried, shaking the little boy back and forth. 
 " You will make sport of the good woman that every 
 Christmas remembers you; that gives you clothes and 
 school-money; you ungrateful creature! " 
 
 The young one broke out into woeful tears. 
 
 "Jette, Jette, let him go!" called down a soft, sweet 
 voice; and turning around, I saw, close before me, the 
 figure of a lady, dressed in black; her white cap and 
 pale face showed clearly in the dusk, and two small 
 hands were stretched toward me.
 
 38 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 " Welcome, my child! " she said, softly. I felt a kiss on 
 my forehead, and a tear, another, and yet another, and 
 my head lay on her breast. " My poor little girl," she 
 whispered; "God bless the hour that brought you to 
 me! but now, come, come, that I may see you in the 
 light," breaking off from the solemn tone in which she 
 had first spoken. 
 
 " Jette, let the little fellow go, he did not know what 
 he was doing; he only did as the others. Prepare the tea; 
 my little guest must be both hungry and thirsty." 
 
 By her side I walked down a long corridor which was 
 almost dark, and then I stepped into a large, lighted 
 room, with old-fashioned furniture and hangings. A 
 lamp burned on the snow-white covered table; and now 
 a pair of gentle eyes were regarding me, so dear, so 
 good, that I felt as if I had suddenly come from snow 
 and ice into warm sunshine. Involuntarily, I flung my 
 arms around the neck of this stranger and wept all the 
 anxiety of the last hour away. 
 
 She let me have the comfort of my tears a few 
 moments, then she raised my head. 
 
 "Now, that is enough, child," she said, soothingly; 
 " come, let me look at you you are exactly such a Lili- 
 putian as your mother was, scarcely three feet high! 
 Shame, child! hurry up and grow, or you will never be 
 able to look anyone in the face." 
 
 I laughed. 
 
 " Ah, yes, Cousin Fernande even called me a child," 
 and it almost seemed as if my old merriment was coming 
 back again, that had flown away in these last weeks of 
 sorrow and care. 
 
 Then, as I sat down to the table and consumed, with 
 healthy appetite, the dainty slices of buttered bread before 
 me, and drank the fresh milk, I shouted aloud, as a
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 39 
 
 snow-white cat, with a light rustle, sprang upon my 
 shoulder, and rubbed her soft fur lovingly against my 
 face. 
 
 "Well, well," cried joyfully the old lady, "Minkais 
 making friends with you directly. She is very shy, usu- 
 ally; that delights me! that quite delights me!" she 
 repeated, and stroked the glossy fur of her pet. 
 
 I remembered suddenly that Frau von Demphoff had 
 spoken of a dozen cats, and then the verse: 
 " Dacht' es fiel 'ne Katz 'von der Bank, 
 Ein Kind nur war es, Gott sei Dank." 
 
 Involuntarily, I looked around the room. Were there 
 any more? Surely, there, out of the dark corner 
 by the fire-place, shone two greenish cat's eyes; in the 
 easy-chair by the window stretched itself comfortably 
 a black-and-white Tabby, and there, behind in the cor- 
 ner, sat, cowering together, two spotted kittens. Alarmed, 
 I laid down my knife and fork on my plate, and raised 
 my glance questioningly to the fine, old face opposite 
 me. 
 
 " Do you not like the cats, child?" she asked, and 
 looked almost grieved. 
 
 " O, yes, but so " 
 
 " So many, you think?" she finished. " Never mind, 
 child, you will get used to them, and willingly, when I 
 tell you that for long years the cats were my only com- 
 panions; and they have never troubled nor angered me," 
 she concluded, and glanced, smiling sadly, over to Minka, 
 who had made herself comfortable on my shoulder. 
 
 " O, no, I like cats very much," I hastened to say, 
 although a little fear still remained. 
 
 "Truly? That pleases me," she cried. "You will see 
 that they are wise as human beings, and besides " She 
 stopped and looked kindly at me. "Now, little one, 
 come to me on the sofa," she begged, "and if you are
 
 40 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 not tired, tell me of your mother. Have you not a little 
 brother?" 
 
 "O, yes!" I quickly answered, and nearly wept again 
 for longing and thought of him. 
 
 But the dear old lady drew my head down, and com- 
 forted me in such a sweet way. She talked to me of the 
 future, and that at my years all sorrow was but a dark 
 cloud that would pass over, and only make the sunshine 
 that follows more appreciated. She talked so consol- 
 ingly and gently, that I was more at peace than for many, 
 many weeks. 
 
 " Who are you, really, Auntie?" I inquired, half asleep, 
 as she tucked me up, with loving hand, under the faded 
 green-silk quilt in the great canopy bed, in which my 
 little person was almost lost. She had come with me to 
 my room which was next her own with true motherly, 
 almost ceremonious, solicitude. I was very tired, and 
 saw with only half-open eyes how the slender figure 
 went noiselessly about the dimly-lighted room. 
 
 " You know already," she said, softly, laughing. 
 " ' Cats' Aunt' the children call me. You shall call 
 me Aunt Edith will you? Over in the villa they call 
 
 me ' Aunt' only. My name is Edith " She said a 
 
 name that I did not clearly understand. " And am a 
 
 real , but later about that. You do not understand, 
 
 so sleep, Lena, and dream something beautiful." She 
 pressed a kiss on my forehead. " Did you never hear 
 your mother speak of me?" she questioned. 
 
 I sleepily shook my head; my eyes were closed for 
 very weariness. 
 
 "Why should she!" she said, low, as to herself, "she 
 was so young at that time " 
 
 Then I heard no more of what she said. Sleep had 
 come and laid itself heavily on my forehead, till sud-
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 41 
 
 denly, with a loud "George!" I sprang up, frightened; 
 I had seen him so plainly stretch his hands toward me, 
 and he looked so ill and wretched 
 
 " Sleep, Lena, do not fear for George," came the low, 
 sweet voice of Aunt Edith. " Do you believe no longer 
 in the angel that each child has? Think of that, dear, 
 and you will be comforted." 
 
 " True, dear Auntie," I said, with a little sob, already 
 half in the sleep that soon sweet and sure rested on my 
 tired eyes. 
 
 When I awoke in the morning I could not think for a 
 moment where I was. Above my head was a canopy of 
 heavy green-silk stuff, and stiff, gilt fringe hung full 
 around it; the faded here and there yellow-streaked 
 curtains of my bed were thrown back, and my sleepy 
 glance took in a high room that the morning sun had 
 filled with a blinding light. 
 
 A monster of a chimney, with black marble facing, 
 was opposite my bed; a high mirror graced the wall over 
 it. This must be very old, for its immense surface was 
 joined in three pieces, and the frame formed a narrow, 
 but richly carved, gilt ledge. 
 
 The furniture belonged, without doubt, to different 
 periods, for near a wonderful inlaid commode, with 
 rounded drawers and glittering garnishment, stood a 
 little table, with fragile gilt legs, that were so marvelously 
 twisted and curved that one saw at a glance it must 
 thank the frivolous Rococo time for its origin. 
 
 The carpet showed in blue-gray shades a constantly 
 repeated woman's figure on a dolphin whose tail 
 ended in a gracefully curved arabesque that boldly 
 swam through the high-crested waves. A broad flower- 
 border ran around the walls above the floor and also 
 under the ceiling, which had massive rafters.
 
 42 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 Evidently this house was built to endure, for the 
 powerful walls, in which were deep window niches, 
 appeared to defy eternity. 
 
 A comfortable feeling came over me in that room 
 flooded with sunshine. I snuggled my head into the 
 snow-white pillow and shut my blinking eyes, till a clear, 
 rich voice aroused me out of the blissful condition 
 between sleeping and waking. 
 
 The door into the next room, that had been closed 
 before, now stood wide open, and I caught a glimpse of a 
 slender white figure and two long braids that hung down 
 her back. 
 
 " She is still asleep, Auntie," said the same bright, fresh 
 voice; " I was close to her bed; she lies with parted lips 
 and the black hair hangs over the brown, little face. 
 What a strange little human child to us, who are accus- 
 tomed to seeing such great blonde giants. Come, Minka, 
 my darling." 
 
 The white figure stooped and picked up the cat, and 
 then suddenly sat down on the window seat. The straw 
 hat flew on the nearest chair, and I recognized the rosy 
 face of my Cousin Charlotte, who apparently had come 
 to pay her aunt a morning visit, and in a very happy 
 frame of mind. 
 
 She dangled her feet, that were clad in little open- 
 work slippers, hugged and stroked Minka, and mean- 
 time trilled a melody with a soft, inexpressibly sweet 
 voice, like the bird that sings in its sleep. 
 
 " Do not waken the child, Lottchen," admonished Aunt 
 Edith in a low voice, and as she spoke, her graceful 
 figure, in the simple gray morning dress, came within the 
 circle of my vision, and sat down in the reclining chair 
 near Charlotte. Her back was toward me, but I had 
 a full view of her pretty white morning cap.
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 43 
 
 Suddenly, Charlotte was still. 
 
 "Auntie," she questioned, in a somewhat subdued 
 voice, but still so that I heard distinctly each word, 
 " Auntie, is it true what Fernande said to Melanie von 
 Stelten yesterday evening, when we were driving to D 
 that the mother of that little one in there now, how 
 shall I say it well in short was an actress, who, through 
 her unheard-of extravagance, completely ruined poor 
 uncle?" 
 
 I shut my eyes. I felt as if one had given me a blow. 
 My mother an actress ! My mother her dear face came 
 before me. Her dainty figure, as she sat at the window, 
 the dear finger wounded with the ceaseless sewing 
 " Unheard-of extravagance!" O, if Fernande had 
 known her! " So? Did Ferra relieve her mind?" ques- 
 tioned Aunt Edith. " It must have been very interesting, 
 Lottchen, and the drive over all too soon for you?" 
 
 " O, yes, Aunt Edith, it did interest me. You know in 
 almost every family there comes out some little piquant 
 scandal; only in ours thanks to the incomparably 
 calm, passionless blood of the Demphoffs in this 
 connection, we seemed to have escaped everything 
 exciting." 
 
 " Charlotte!" cried Aunt Edith, rebukingly. 
 
 A silvery musical laugh answered her. 
 
 " It is true, Aunt Edith, and so I thought it extremely 
 interesting. Just think what a change a romantic pas- 
 sion must make in a quiet, tiresome, stupid family life. 
 
 " There are the scenes with the gentleman's parents: 
 The son threatens to take his life, the mother plans 
 amusements to distract him and make him forget his 
 passion, the father proposes a journey, the sisters invite 
 a half-dozen marriageable friends to visit them, and 
 finally one reads in the local paper some morning:
 
 44 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 " ' In our midst has occurred a most romantic episode, 
 considering the present blasg period. The son of one of 
 our first families has married in spite of the most ener- 
 getic opposition a young actress, who understood, 
 through her beauty, so to fascinate the young cavalier, 
 that he ' 
 
 " Really, Auntie, was it like that?" she asked, lowering 
 her declamatory tone. 
 
 " Was that the way Ferra told the story, Charlotte?" 
 
 "Very similar, Auntie, only more in detail; more col- 
 ored," replied my cousin. 
 
 " Fernande knew this story much too little to relate 
 it," said Aunt Edith, earnestly, " and as a proof in one 
 particular, the mother of the little one never set foot on 
 the boards, so she could not well be an actress; and I 
 beg you seriously, Charlotte, never to speak of her again 
 in this manner." 
 
 " Do you know the true story, Auntie?" said the 
 young girl, enticingly. " Did you ever see the woman 
 that forever separated papa and uncle?" 
 
 " I saw her once only, Lotta, " said Aunt Edith. " I 
 know very well the sad story, that even to-day is not 
 understood. This woman, Charlotte, this little child-like 
 woman, with the great, dark eyes, was truly the innocent 
 cause of the discord, but on her lay a very small share of 
 the blame. She had the pure, sweet spirit of a child 
 no coquette, as they seemed to have represented her to 
 you." 
 
 Good, Aunt Edith. 
 
 My heart went out to her in gratitude. She had taken 
 my mother's part against that young girl there, who 
 would judge her in the thoughtlessness of a nature who 
 yet has no idea of what happiness means. I opened my 
 eyes and looked at her. She sat there very quiet, and
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 45 
 
 her glance rested on Aunt Edith's face without betray- 
 ing any real interest. 
 
 " Pray tell me what you know, sweetest of aunts," she 
 begged. " You will be doing a good deed. First, you 
 will compensate me for the avowedly stupid reunion yes- 
 terday; secondly, that I can prove to Ferra that I am much 
 better informed in the matter than she." 
 
 " Is that your only reason for wishing to know this 
 sad story, Charlotte?" said Aunt Edith, seriously. 
 
 Charlotte lowered her eyes and was silent. 
 
 " I am very sorry to have to say it, Charlotte," con- 
 tinued Aunt Edith, " but you have come back from the 
 pension superficial beyond expression. I am more and 
 more convinced it is so; you are no more the tender- 
 hearted little girl that so easily found tears for others' 
 unhappiness. You wish to enjoy your life; to amuse 
 yourself seems to be your only aim." 
 
 A moment the young girl stretched out her hands 
 toward her aunt, entreatingly; then her head drooped 
 again, and she remained silent. 
 
 " I will tell you willingly as much as I know," began 
 Aunt Edith anew, " but it is very little; and I only do it 
 to allow you a glimpse into that life that you know noth- 
 ing of, and that deceives you like an alluring play, and 
 in which you think only beautiful things can befall you. 
 I would not take away your sunny cheerfulness, not for 
 the world; but train yourself not to pass by misfortune 
 indifferently, or treat it as an amusing theme of conversa- 
 tion. In each human heart, Hope's flower fails at some 
 time to mature. You can not be spared your sorrow, 
 dear child. 
 
 " It is only a short story that you will hear, but it con- 
 tains a world of pain, Charlotte," began Aunt Edith, 
 while I lay with beating heart and listened to her words:
 
 46 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 " Herman von Demphoff, the father of our little sleeper, 
 and the brother of your father, was the younger son, as 
 you know, and consequently received only a very mod- 
 erate fortune, barely sufficient to make the career of an 
 officer possible to him. In his garrison he learned to 
 know the girl who was so fatal to him. It happened in 
 the house of her uncle, who called her his adopted 
 daughter. I believe if the affair had proved to be 
 as it seemed at that time, your father would have 
 scarcely raised an objection to the union of the pair, for 
 the old uncle was a respectable man, and considered 
 wealthy. 
 
 " Then he died suddenly, and no will was found, and 
 the young girl, accustomed to every possible luxury, was 
 left as poor as a beggar. 
 
 "The really great wealth fell to a distant relative, 
 who took not the slightest notice of the impoverished 
 young thing. 
 
 " Your uncle came here worn with anxiety, and begged 
 admission for his little bride; then the storm broke. 
 Unfortunately, I heard almost nothing of what occurred 
 in the Abbess House, in the family of your father. I, 
 myself, at that time was in deep sorrow. 
 
 " I learned of the quarrel only through Gottlieb, and 
 that Hermann after a stormy scene drove to the next 
 post-station. He was also angry with me. So I received 
 no intelligence of his marriage, which was celebrated 
 soon afterward. I first saw it in the newspaper. Soon 
 after the wedding the brother must have relented in a 
 measure, for Hermann and his young wife were invited to 
 make a visit to Cloister Wendhusen. Not until the guest- 
 chamber, which was opposite my room, was opened, not 
 until Gottlieb in fine livery with the state carriage rolled 
 through the gate-way to bring the guests, did I learn
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 47 
 
 from my questions that the young married pair were 
 expected! 
 
 " I was at that time too much accustomed to the painful 
 neglect of my brothers and sisters to be wounded by 
 this. I was looked upon as one dead. Nay, worse; for a 
 beloved one, dead, has once in awhile a flower laid on 
 the grave. But that does not belong here. 
 
 " There is something of the spaniel nature in some 
 women's hearts, Lottchen, as they say. Instead of with- 
 drawing myself deep in my room, and nursing my 
 wounded pride, for long hours I stood that day watch- 
 ing behind the curtain to see my youngest brother's wife, 
 and himself as a happy husband. 
 
 " But I met with disappointment, for I could not see 
 into the covered carriage, and aside from a blue veil that 
 fluttered in the spring breeze, I saw nothing of my new 
 sister-in-law. And later, nothing, for I was taken ill, and 
 had to remain in bed. But below I could hear a soft, 
 musical woman's voice, and light feet flitting along the 
 corridor. Beautiful, wonderfully beautiful she was, my 
 servants told me. ' Oh, My Lady, like one of the holy 
 ones that hang over the altar in the Catholic church in 
 Ellingen; and she is like a little doll. Oh, so little,' they 
 would say. Nearly two weeks went by before I found 
 myself able to sit up; it was a hot June day, and even the 
 twilight was not able to soften the oppressive sultriness. 
 I heard, as I lay on my sofa in the dusk, tired and 
 weak, again outside in the corridor the tripping, light 
 feet it was almost a run, and soon the door of the 
 guests' room was slammed violently; after awhile 
 a man's hasty tread sounded down the corridor, and 
 again the door opened, and the voice of my youngest 
 brother resounded through the house. 'The matter 
 is settled, Elsie; we shall leave immediately!' At the
 
 48 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 same time I could hear suppressed weeping, bitter weep- 
 ing. 
 
 "In an instant I had opened my door, the one oppo- 
 site mine was thrown far back. I could see over the 
 room, and recognized in the roseate twilight of the 
 setting sun, a slender white figure on the sofa, and my 
 brother before her on his knees, speaking low and sooth- 
 ing words. 
 
 " l Hermann, I did nothing bad. Oh, I shall die with 
 shame; let me go away, Hermann; let me go away from 
 here,' she begged again and again; and a young, tear- 
 ful face, full of unspeakable charm, raised up from the 
 pillow and laid itself against his cheek! 
 
 " ' Yes, yes, dear, only calm yourself; the packing must 
 be done, and you are excited to the highest pitch. Did 
 you believe for one moment that I doubted you? My 
 heaven! who could fancy such a thing?' 
 
 " He arose and went over to the table, and the next 
 moment it flew clattering across the room, and the frag- 
 ments of a crystal water carafe lay glistening on the 
 carpet. The young wife sprang upon her feet in 
 fright and looked at her husband with great, startled 
 eyes. 
 
 " ' Not a glass of water in this hospitable house when 
 one needs it! ' he cried, with suppressed anger, and 
 he pulled the bell-cord; then the door was slammed. 
 
 "Embarrassed, I also closed mine, and puzzled my 
 brain to fathom what could have happened. The sound 
 of horses' hoofs called me to the window, and I saw your 
 father, Lottchen, quite against his habit, riding away in 
 the dusk, and before he returned, Hermann and his 
 young wife had left Wendhusen, never to return. 
 
 "I never could forget the charming face, with the 
 glorious dark eyes that looked up so shy and question-
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 49 
 
 ing from under the long lids. And later, when the 
 rumor came to us that she lived in the direst poverty, I 
 could not resist sitting down and writing to her, and beg- 
 ging her to accept assistance from me, even though the 
 sum was small. My letter came back unopened. She 
 may never have known who the writer was. I do not 
 believe she knew that a sister of her husband existed; 
 she may have thought the letter was from your mother. 
 So I remained a stranger to her always, when I so gladly 
 would have been near to her. 
 
 " Once again I made an attempt, but again the letter 
 was returned to me through the post, with a short sen- 
 tence from a delicate woman's hand, the substance being, 
 that no letter from Wendhusen would be accepted. 
 This was nearly a year after Hermann's death." 
 
 "But, Auntie," interrupted Charlotte, "you have said 
 nothing in favor of exonerating Uncle Hermann's wife. 
 Ferra says she, through her extravagance, " 
 
 "Charlotte! Shall Ferra influence you with her judg- 
 ment? 'Tis true, the young pair lived handsomely, as 
 their circumstances in life forced them to do, as befitted 
 their station; but the fault was the husband's. She 
 believed him to be rich, believed his means sufficient to 
 permit them to carry on such a brilliant style of living. 
 Without misgiving, she lived in the luxury he lavished 
 upon her! I am convinced if he had only given her an 
 intimation of the truth she would gladly have joined 
 hands with him, and lived simply as their means 
 required." 
 
 " Why do you infer that, Aunt Edith?" 
 
 " By the way and manner in which she atoned for the 
 mistake she made through ignorance. Or do you not 
 think it is an atonement, Charlotte, if the woman, with 
 the sacrifice of her entire strength, procured by her 
 
 4
 
 50 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 hands day and night her tender hands unaccustomed 
 to work support for herself and children, and brought 
 them up respectably and honorably? Do you not think 
 that hours of such toil and achievement, in tears and 
 humbled pride, can make good the wrongs done in igno- 
 rance? Can you imagine, Charlotte, what it must be, 
 night after night, to work until the small hours, by a 
 dim lamp, with painful thoughts for company? Do you 
 know what it means, when one must say to himself, 
 ' when I have no longer strength to work, then must I 
 starve, and those that belong to me?' No, child, you d6 
 not know; may God keep you from the knowledge." 
 
 "Aunt," said Charlotte, entreatingly, " dear Aunt." 
 
 I did not see what she did; as she spoke, I had thrown 
 myself on my side, and buried my head deep in the 
 pillow, that they might not hear my sobs, which tore my 
 breast. 
 
 I felt a kiss on my hair, and as I turned over, my 
 eyes fell on my Cousin Lotta, who was kneeling by my 
 bed. 
 
 "I will love you, little cousin," she said, and the blue 
 eyes glistened with tears, although the sweet mouth 
 smiled. " I will love you; forgive me for what I said 
 in arrogance, for you heard me, I am sure. Come 
 here, you tiny creature, and give me a kiss," she said, 
 drawing me to her, and kissing me. "You are not angry 
 with me? No?" and her sunny face grew very earnest 
 as she questioned me. 
 
 I shook my head and put my arms around her neck. 
 " I will love you also, Charlotte," I assured her with 
 a sincere heart. 
 
 " But now you must get up," she cried, raising up from 
 her kneeling posture and returning to her natural tone; 
 " may I be your maid?"
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 51 
 
 With merriest chatter, and laughing and tittering, she 
 helped me to dress. 
 
 " You have no idea what is going to happen to you," 
 she teased. " Yes, yes, you little town miss, you are now 
 in the country of cows and calves, and they are very 
 renowned in Cloister Wendhusen. Grass, flowers, trees, 
 and fresh air we have in abundance; only wait, you shall 
 soon hive red cheeks." She stroked her hand caress- 
 ingly over my face, as she helped me tuck my braids in 
 the net. 
 
 "Charlotte," I asked, "is Aunt Edith called Frau 
 Berker or Berka?" 
 
 She laughed merrily and clapped her hands. " Child, 
 do you not know that? Aunt Berka." 
 
 "I had never heard of her," I replied. "Mamma 
 never talked to us of Cloister Wendhusen." 
 
 " Why, child, you have not known either, all this time, 
 who / am," she called, in comic despair. " That must not 
 beany longer, so listen; I will present to you our entire 
 family in order." 
 
 She sat down on the side of my bed, and looked over 
 to me, as she began to count on her fingers. 
 
 " Number one, self-evident, my mother, the Frau von 
 Demphoff, nee von Thienen of Thtlringen, held in the 
 greatest respect by her children and inferiors. When 
 Ferra and I speak of her, we call her Serenissima. Ferra 
 and Joachim are her darlings, Gerhardt and I take second 
 place. I receive very many harsh words from her, because 
 but that belongs to my personal description. 
 
 "Number two, Leopold Gerhardt von Demphoff, 
 heir and chief of the family, my golden brother, the best, 
 noblest man living. But, unfortunately, he is a little bit 
 of an invalid," she said, half to herself, and a shadow crept 
 into the bright eyes. " He will be well again, I know it,
 
 62 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 Lena," she said, evidently reassuring herself. " If you 
 have at any time a request to make, go to him; he will 
 not say no. 
 
 " Number three, my beautiful sister Fernande von 
 Riedingen, who has lived under her father's roof for two 
 years, because her husband was so unfortunate as to get 
 thrown at the races in R , which ended his life and made 
 her a widow. She has worn the deepest black for a year 
 and a half; it is so extremely becoming to blonde hair " 
 
 "Lotta, Lotta!" cried Aunt Edith, who just then 
 entered the room, " you have dropped again into the old 
 habit." Then she came over to me, and kissed me affec- 
 tionately. " Have you slept well? " she asked. " I see 
 you are being introduced to all that belong to the 
 family " 
 
 " Number four," interrupted Charlotte, " Joachim von 
 Demphoff, lieutenant in the Ninth Cuirassier Regiment, 
 a very handsome man, cavalier comme il faut, with all 
 that belongs to that, virtues and faults, adores the hunt 
 next to the ballet." 
 
 " I pray you to cease, Lotta; what will Magdalena think 
 of you?" said Aunt Edith, somewhat vexed. 
 
 " Number five, Charlotte von Demphoff, enfant ter- 
 rible, shocks every member of the family, sees everything 
 she should not see, and hears what is not meant that she 
 should, a quite disagreeable character. Whoever she pur- 
 sues with her love can not save themselves. Enjoys most 
 to stay in Cloister Wendhusen with Aunt Edith and be 
 scolded by her. Oh, you good, only Aunt Edith, you!" 
 she cried, impetuously, taking her in her arms. " I only 
 ask one thing, do not give me reason to be jealous of 
 that one there." 
 
 " You wild creature, let me go, you are squeezing the 
 breath out of me!" cried auntie; "if you do not do
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 53 
 
 differently, it is quite possible the little one will dispute 
 your ground with you." 
 
 "There, Lena, have a care!" she threatened, running 
 into the next room with such a breeze that two or three 
 of Auntie's pets flew over to her, startled out of their 
 wits. " I will set all Auntie's cats on you, in that case, 
 and that is no little thing, for the yellow spotted one has 
 six young ones." 
 
 She appeared again in the door, brandishing her big 
 straw hat at us, and then she was gone. We heard her 
 fresh, merry laugh echo in the corridor. 
 
 " Now I know who you are," I said, drawing Aunt 
 Edith's arm around my neck; " you are my dear father's 
 only sister." 
 
 She stroked my hair tenderly. " Your father's sister," 
 she repeated softly, and continued: "Child, child, how 
 much you resemble your mother; the same eyes, quite 
 the same." 
 
 " Auntie, I thank you," I said, and kissed the hand I 
 held. " If I had known how good you are mamma 
 must have written to you, and not to Aunt Demphoff, 
 that she needed help. You would not have answered 
 that she was guilty of my father's misfortune." 
 
 She pushed me suddenly back and looked at me, quite 
 pale. 
 
 " What? Your mother wrote to her and she replied as 
 you say?" 
 
 I nodded assent. " She was very ill after that and she 
 talked of it in her delirium." 
 
 Aunt Edith was silent; she gazed into the green foli- 
 age that stirred outside in the golden morning light. 
 An indescribably bitter expression lay around her mouth. 
 Then she stepped to the window, and as she opened the 
 heavy blind she turned to me with the words:
 
 54 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 " Now come, Magdalena, to breakfast; it is very late 
 to-day. To-morrow, I shall call you early. I always take 
 a walk through the park in the morning, and you shall 
 accompany me. You have no idea how lovely it is, 
 you poor little town-mouse."
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 That was the day of my arrival in Wendhusen, and 
 my first awaking. Almost five years have passed since 
 that morning, and yet it stands out with such clearness 
 before my mind, that I could almost think that it was only 
 yesterday that I a little inexperienced, homesick girl 
 awakened under Aunt Edith's green -canopied bed and 
 listened to the conversation that started a thousand 
 questions in my childish heart as if it were only yester- 
 day that Charlotte kneeled by my bed and promised, 
 with tears and laughter, to love me this whimsical, 
 dear creature, who seemed composed of smiles and tears, 
 and to whom life suddenly became all tears; but, God be 
 thanked, finally changed back to smiles. 
 
 Ah, Lottchen, if you have not long known that I love 
 you, I will here make my love's declaration, with the 
 remembrance of all that we mutually experienced and 
 suffered. 
 
 Also, that day stands out clearly before me, as I then, 
 for the first time, went on a voyage of discovery in the 
 old cloister. I think it was the first day; Aunt Edith 
 went to visit a sick woman in the town. I sat all alone 
 in a deep window niche, looking over the grass plat, 
 away over the high tops of the park trees, behind which 
 the villa lay concealed. It was uncomfortably still in 
 the great building, and outside was no trace of life. 
 At one side lay the Abbess House, with its rows of shut- 
 tered windows with deep shadows over the long flight of 
 
 (56)
 
 56 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 steps, or stairs; the tendrils of the wild vines grew in 
 unrestrained freedom; they had made a net-work over 
 the steps, and hung in great, luxuriant garlands over the 
 massive house door, till it looked as if it might be the 
 entrance to little Brier-rose's enchanted castle. And 
 behind those windows my father had lived a happy child. 
 Over the moss-grown steps, in later years, my mother's 
 little feet had tripped into the house in which she had 
 been so harshly treated. What could they have done to 
 her, who was so good, so beautiful? If one could only 
 go into those rooms; but they had been locked since 
 Uncle's death. 
 
 Why? 
 
 Everything that I had seen and heard seemed so 
 enigmatical! A little paroxysm of terror overcame me. I 
 sprang up and ran into the corridor. The long hall was 
 always in a twilight, even with the most glaring sunshine 
 outside, and deep shadows were concealed in corners 
 and niches. Where were the rooms my parents had 
 occupied on that visit? Opposite, surely; there, across 
 the hall. 
 
 I stood before one of the high, dark, carved doors 
 that were in regular distance along the whitewashed 
 wall. I peeped through the key-hole, and saw a little 
 strip of carpet, with large flowered pattern. A cool air 
 blew toward me; evidently the windows were open in 
 there. Aunt Edith had told me that during the hunting 
 season, when there were many guests, these rooms were 
 always used as sleeping-rooms; they called this wing the 
 "lodging-house." In the palmy days of the cloister, 
 not only the massive stone building, but the Abbess 
 House, was used for this purpose, and, judging from the 
 number and size of the rooms, the pious Sisters must 
 have been eminently hospitable.
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 57 
 
 The charm of it all suddenly took possession of me; 
 this mysterious half-light in the deserted building. 
 
 Legends of old knights' castles, in whose galleries the 
 lady of the castle went to and fro in trailing silken robes, 
 and little round cap, embroidered in gold, the pocket and 
 bunch of keys by her side, came to my mind. Yes, there 
 was charm, but mixed with fear, in rummaging in these 
 old rooms that had not been lived in for years, yet that 
 once had seen so much, so much. 
 
 On tip-toe I stole down the endlessly long passage. 
 Here and there a streak of light out of a key-hole fell 
 on the old gray floor, and there at the end of the corridor 
 was a bright light. A few steps led down into the 
 Abbess House, but first, into a large whitewashed hall, 
 the windows covered with linen curtains. Beautifully 
 carved dark folding-doors led to the rooms; large antlers 
 ornamented the walls, and from the ceiling hung a large 
 glass bell, in an old-fashioned brass hoop, evidently desig- 
 nated for the reception of a lamp. Here, also, I peered 
 through a key-hole, with bated breath and throbbing 
 heart these must be the rooms in which my father was 
 born and grew up. But I could not spy more than a 
 little strip of brown leather hanging with gilt decora- 
 tion, and a little piece of the gilt frame of a picture. 
 
 Aunt Edith must tell me all about it, I thought, and 
 before I really knew where I was, I found myself on the 
 upper step of a broad staircase that began to creak 
 uncomfortably under my light weight. For a moment I 
 hesitated, then I ran hurriedly down, raising a mighty 
 cloud of dust with my dress. 
 
 Another locked door near the foot of the stairs; no, a 
 pressure on the latch opened it; it flew back with an 
 uncanny screech that went through the whole scale. I 
 almost screamed aloud with astonishment and surprise
 
 58 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 I believed myself set back many hundred years. It 
 seemed a picture out of the Middle Ages the vaulted 
 roof of the large, airy, broad passage, with its pointed 
 arches, which were held together with delicately-carved 
 stone rosettes. There were no outside walls; only slender, 
 spiral columns. Climbing roses and wild vines hung 
 their luxuriant tendrils downward like airy curtains, and 
 underneath, away, the glance roved over flowery grass- 
 plats in the thick, green wilderness of noble old trees. 
 The brilliant sheen of a midday sun lay on the green 
 turf; no sound broke the stillness; I strolled linger- 
 ingly between the columns, out on to the grass-grown 
 garden-walk. White butterflies fluttered in swarms over 
 the beds whose plants ran wild; the tendrils of the cen- 
 tifolious (evenly woven into a net- work, the border of box- 
 shrub) grew far out in the path and, as if resenting my 
 presence, caught on my dress and held me fast, and here 
 and there a statue gleamed out from dark shadows, 
 almost overgrown with ivy, which thickly matted the 
 trunks of the trees also. 
 
 As in a dream, I went on. 
 
 This was in very truth Brier-rose's enchanted garden, 
 so world-forsaken, so weird in its solitude, it lay there 
 in the light of the midday sun, which could not be 
 entirely driven out, though reduced to twilight, by the 
 roof of thick, green foliage. 
 
 The branches hung so low that they grazed my hair, 
 and they concealed, also, with their wealth of leaves, 
 the high walls which enclosed the garden, and made it 
 seem immeasurable. 
 
 O, thou beautiful old cloister garden, how dear hast 
 thou become to me! almost the dearest spot on this 
 great, round earth. 
 
 The immense park around the elegant villa, with its
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 59 
 
 Englishy, velvety lawn, and its broad flower pastures, 
 vanished completely before this little grass-plat, with its 
 field flowers flecking it with color. And on none of the 
 modern easy-chairs could one sit so comfortably as on 
 the old moss-grown stone bench under the two great 
 linden trees which made with their branches the precious 
 spot yet more secluded and secret. 
 
 Ah! how many hundred times have I sat there in pain 
 and joy; over my head the swaying branches, and at my 
 feet the half-sunken grave-stone of an old abbess, 
 whose exact image, in life-size, with the garments in 
 stiff folds, the hands crossed over the breast, adorned 
 the place under which she had reposed already over two 
 hundred years. The rain splashed on the sandstone; in 
 the winter the snow-water trickled over it, but ever lay the 
 fine, chiseled form in its resting-place, and ever one 
 could read that "Anno 1558, the Right Reverend Abbess, 
 Frau Magdalena Sibylla, Countess of the Empire, of 
 Radeberg and Hohenstein, went to God, through Christ, 
 in a blessed hour of death." 
 
 It was my favorite place, this old grave. I had pulled 
 up the nettles and planted ivy and evergreen around, 
 and in doing so thought of a dear, distant grave that 
 stranger hands cared for; and felt that what I was doing 
 to one long, long dead, in a way I was doing for my 
 mother. 
 
 " That is right," said old Gottlieb later, from whom I 
 had begged some plants; "that is right, gracious Frau- 
 lein, one must have something tangible, some place 
 where he feels at home with his remembrances, and no 
 other soul can follow with the thoughts. I feel just so. 
 When I have a heavy heart ah! Heaven, and who has 
 not sometimes then I go out of the room and go 
 up into the garret, in the flax -room that was the pride of
 
 60 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 my blessed old wife, her favorite place; and when my 
 heart is full of hot blood and wrong thoughts, and I go 
 in there and smell the flax, and see the yarn hanging 
 there that her hands have spun, it is as if she said to me, 
 'Never mind, never mind; all will come right.' " 
 
 How many long conversations I have held with the 
 honest old man in the cloister garden! He pointed out 
 to me the window of my uncle's study, where the lamp 
 sent out its rays into the quiet garden, often till long 
 after midnight. Then his favorite path that he used to 
 take every morning before breakfast to the sun-dial, over 
 which was the strange device: 
 
 "Memento Horae IVovissimez." 
 
 He would tell me of the home life, how very different 
 it was when the blessed master was living, and he (Gott- 
 lieb) was the family coachman. How, every Sunday 
 morning at 7 o'clock exactly, the large carriage with the 
 glass sides was at the door, and master, and mistress, 
 and children, tutor, and governess, drove to Welsroda, 
 to the church. And hurrah! Then in the afternoon 
 they went to Littwitz, to the Istheims, or to Tromsdori 
 to see the Mtinchs, or to a picnic in the green woods, 
 where coffee was made and there were singing and play- 
 ing. 
 
 The household was happy, and the coachman had 
 then, Sundays, in the servants' hall, roast pork and good 
 home-brewed ale. 
 
 " Yes, yes, times are changed. In the present day, 
 there are no more drives on Sunday, nor going to 
 church. If the young master did not go, our young 
 ladies would not go for a whole year. Yes, yes, but 
 what business is it of mine? The world is round, and 
 must turn itself, however. Nothing is any more what it 
 used to be, at least not here."
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 61 
 
 Once I asked him, with some hesitation, why he was 
 no longer the family coachman? 
 
 At first the good old face flushed, then became paler 
 than usual. 
 
 " Because the mistress never forgave me that I was the 
 one that drove Fraulein Edith that night. She treasured 
 it against me; but so long as the master lived, the mat- 
 ter seemed to be forgotten. I received from him a 
 hearty scolding, and that was the end of it. The mis- 
 tress, however, had treasured it up in her heart, and four 
 weeks after the master died, or thereabouts, Gottlieb 
 must leave the place, out of the house; that is, he must do 
 the driving for the inspectors and superintendent, and 
 for Frau Berka, for no one could serve two masters. 
 Think of that, old Gottlieb! That is on your account, 
 I thought, and took my fine place. My old Frau was 
 sick with anger. She was already, at that time, a feeble 
 woman. I will not speak any more of that time; but I 
 had to control myself that I did not strike to the earth 
 everything that came in my way; as if I could do any 
 different, when the gracious Fraulein said to me: ' Gott- 
 lieb, be at the garden gate this evening, with the dog- 
 cart. I am going to drive.' That was a command; I 
 must obey. That she did not come back with me could 
 I help that?" 
 
 " She did not come back, Gottlieb?" 
 
 "No, no, Fraulein; she remained where it pleased her 
 better than here yes; but you need know no more of 
 the story. I know nothing further, only this. If I 
 could to-day do her a favor, I would, if they drove me 
 from the place the same evening." 
 
 Mysteries were continually weaving themselves around 
 me, and my busy fancy held a thousand fabulous conject- 
 ures, which grouped themselves sometimes around my
 
 62 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 mother, sometimes around Aunt Edith. For half a day 
 I would muse over it, and nearly forget my anxiety and 
 worry about George. Whenever the weather permitted I 
 would slip off down-stairs to the cloister garden, and 
 would come back with my arms full of flowers, with 
 which I would decorate Auntie's room and my own. She 
 let me do as I pleased, and would smilingly stroke my 
 hair with a loving hand; and when I would crown the 
 pretty lad's face over her sewing-table with roses and 
 fresh green, she would laugh and nod. 
 
 " A splendid boy, isn't he, Lena? so will your George 
 be. Do you not see a resemblance?" 
 
 Then I would bring out the little photograph of 
 George, and we would compare, and after much looking 
 we finally found really some resemblance, although my 
 boy's dark face had very little in common with the one 
 looking out from the frame, which was a face too earnest 
 and thoughtful for its years. 
 
 Over eight days had passed. George and Christiana 
 had already replied to my first letter, and my life had 
 begun to move on in regular fashion. I helped to sew 
 for the poor children; practiced, on an old-fashioned 
 piano, scales and exercises; and had conversations with 
 Aunt Edith in English and French; read much aloud 
 and, in short, I found myself from day to day more and 
 more contented in the old cloister. 
 
 The stable-yard, a large inclosure behind the cloister 
 building, also had a peculiar charm for me. The rooms 
 opposite ours looked down into the yard. One of the 
 smallest Aunt Edith used for a sort of store-room, and 
 I would stand there by the hour at the window and look 
 down. 
 
 For a city girl, it was wonderfully interesting to watch 
 the bright-colored fowls, the stately dove-cote, the beau-
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 63 
 
 tiful white cows, and the immense four-horse hay wagon 
 with its fragrant load. I would often see Cousin Gerhardt 
 there. He would go from barns to stable with friendly 
 greeting, and once, to my joy, I saw him driven back 
 from the field by Gottlieb, and saw him give him a 
 friendly nod, as he got out of the wagon. I was sure 
 that pleased the good old man. 
 
 I saw none of the occupants of the villa, and even 
 Cousin Gerhardt long ago must have forgotten that a 
 strange little girl lived there with the quiet aunt. After 
 that first night's rest, which he came to inquire after, as 
 he promised, I had not seen him; and only once the 
 ladies, when they drove rapidly through the park, and 
 Charlotte had not once looked up to Auntie's windows. 
 Aunt Edith did not appear to notice Charlotte's long 
 absence. She never mentioned it, only it seemed to me 
 she was restless and preoccupied, as if she were expect- 
 ing something; and toward evening, when it was time for 
 the postman, she would go down through the long cor- 
 ridor and bend, listening, over the heavy wooden bal- 
 usters of the stairs; or, in case she had not returned 
 punctually at that time from a sick visit, she would go 
 directly to the corner cupboard and look where Jette 
 usually put the mail matter, and there was always a 
 mixture of anxiety and hope in the large eyes. 
 
 If she found only a newspaper, she would sit down 
 with a sigh, at the window, with her hands close folded, 
 and look out over the green tops of the trees; but after 
 a while she would turn around to me with the old sweet 
 smile. " Good evening, little one," she would say, and 
 the cheerful hope was back again in her face, and she 
 would call her pets. 
 
 "To-morrow is coming," she said one evening, half 
 aloud, when I joyfully received a letter from George,
 
 64 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 and to Aunt Edith's question, the postman had answered 
 laconically, " nothing." 
 
 " How many letters have you had, child, in the four- 
 teen days you have been here? " she asked one evening. 
 "The little fellow will spoil you only it is the first 
 longing, and the first pain; is he well?" 
 
 I sat down on the estrade at her feet, and began to 
 read my letter aloud; but I did not reach the end, 
 because the longing drove the hot tears to my eyes, for 
 George wrote complainingly. A button was torn off his 
 Sunday jacket and the Frau Doctor had no time to sew 
 it on. 
 
 I stopped reading, and my heart sank, while I thought 
 how carefully the little boy's toilet was always kept by 
 the mother's busy hands, and how vexing such slackness 
 would be to the child, so accustomed to order, and I 
 could not help him. 
 
 Aunt Edith could not have been listening, for she did 
 not seem to notice that I had stopped reading. She was 
 looking thoughtfully into the park, as she softly stroked 
 the white fur of Minka, who sat near her on the window- 
 seat. I was doubly wretched then, for I had never seen 
 Aunt Edith unsympathetic before, and a feeling of 
 rebellion at her neglect and indifference arose within 
 me. I would have liked to give the white Minka a com- 
 fortable push out of the window, if it had been possible. 
 Should I sit still and wait for Aunt Edith to turn again 
 to me, or go to my room and have a good cry? But, 
 before I came to a conclusion, the door opened, and 
 Charlotte came into the room. She flew in great haste 
 to Aunt Edith, and threw way over me, so that her 
 white muslin dress completely covered me her arms 
 around her neck, and, as I quickly slipped to one side, 
 she kneeled in my deserted place and laid her head in
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 65 
 
 Aunt Edith's lap. That all happened in a moment, and 
 the next instant I saw Aunt Edith's head bend over, and 
 heard her softly ask a question, and Charlotte answered 
 with almost heart-breaking sobs. 
 
 " Aunt, dear aunt, I can not keep my misery to myself 
 any longer," she cried, raising her head and wiping away 
 her tears. " I hear nothing the entire day but ' Be 
 reasonable, child! We only desire the best for you! 
 Only consider what we ask!' etc. Mamma seems to 
 have entirely settled the matter in her own mind, and 
 if I dare to make any opposition, says: 'We shall see,' 
 and she positively forbids my talking over the matter 
 with you. But to-day I could not bear it any longer. 
 I declared to Ferra, with energy, that I should go to 
 you now, on the spot, and beg your advice." 
 
 " That was foolish, dear," replied Aunt Edith. " If 
 there is something concerning yourself, you can easily 
 see how my advice would be judged in such matters. 
 Child, you have acted rashly. Why do you not talk 
 with Gerhardt?" 
 
 " Because he has not been at home for a week, dear 
 Aunt." 
 
 " That is really too bad, my darling; now pour out your 
 little heart. What do they require of you, Charlotte?" 
 
 Charlotte threw back her beautiful head, placed both 
 arms again around Auntie's neck, looked up at her, and 
 then her silvery laugh echoed through the high room. 
 
 " Oh, it is comical, after all, you sweetest of aunts," 
 she cried, though at the same time bright tears were 
 running out of her eyes. " I have to laugh, and yet, it 
 is horribly serious just think, Auntie, I must " 
 
 She broke off suddenly and sprang up from her kneel- 
 ing position, for in the open door, as if by magic, stood 
 Ferra. 
 
 5
 
 66 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 Ferra had, as I learned later, an enviable gift of never 
 showing embarrassment; and, moreover, one could never 
 see that she had any special aim in view in her actions, 
 and so she came to-day, into Aunt Edith's room with 
 a genial smile which was very becoming to her delicate 
 features as if it were her custom to do so every day. 
 She stretched out her hand, although she avoided look- 
 ing into the questioning eyes of the old lady, threatened 
 Charlotte roguishly with her ringer, and nodded hastily 
 to me. 
 
 "Ah, ha!" she said, "you seem to have found again 
 your lost laugh with Aunt Edith, little one! I assure 
 you, Aunt, that child goes around the house as if the 
 hopes of her whole life had been blasted. Now I see 
 how much your tears mean, you little fraud!" 
 
 Charlotte did not answer, but turned quickly to me, 
 wiping away the last traces of her tears, and sat down 
 beside me on the window-seat. 
 
 " Now, little cousin," she began, " we have not seen 
 each other for a long time. Considering our avowed 
 friendship, I have been expecting you would come over 
 to inquire after me; but you have not." 
 
 " Could I dare do that?" 
 
 " Why, my child, what a foolish question! You simply 
 go to my room, and if I am not there, send the house- 
 maid after me, in case you didn't wish to seek me your- 
 self." 
 
 I shook my head vigorously. " No, Charlotte, I would 
 not do that; but you come here, that is nicer, and I will 
 show you my place down in the cloister garden." 
 Meanwhile, Ferra had pushed a chair up to Aunt Edith's 
 window, and lay back comfortably in it. It was very 
 evident she did not mean to leave the room before her 
 sister.
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 67 
 
 It was also evident that Charlotte understood, for she 
 bit her lip angrily. 
 
 " Now Auntie," asked Ferra, " what is your honest 
 opinion of the whole story?" 
 
 " I have no opinion, my child, for I do not know the 
 story." 
 
 Ferra's eyes suddenly brightened, and she threw a 
 friendly glance at her sister. 
 
 " It is right of Lotta to settle this affair by herself," 
 she said, in a tone of commendation. " It does not 
 help matters to be asking advice here and there; it is 
 only confusing." 
 
 " I was just about to tell Aunt Edith, Ferra, when 
 you came in; but although I am forced to delay giving 
 her my confidence, I shall do so at some future time," 
 she concluded. 
 
 " I will take a share in it then, Lottchen if you will 
 persist; I am sure, Aunt, you will allow me to do so. Do 
 you not think, with us, that Lotta has no right to so 
 obstinately resist when an honorable man makes her an 
 offer of marriage?" 
 
 " I am not at all obstinate," corrected Charlotte, " for 
 this ' honorable man ' is very indifferent to me. Only it 
 makes me unhappy, when you and mamma know 
 that, you still urge me to marry him, as if " 
 
 " You will never believe that we have only your good 
 at heart, Lottchen," her sister said, softly. 
 
 "In this case, I surely can not see it," replied Char- 
 lotte, defiantly. 
 
 "Will you not take Gerhardt into your confidence?" 
 asked Aunt Edith. " I can really say nothing about the 
 matter; for, in the first place, I do not know anything 
 about the gentleman, not even his name for I do not 
 go out.as you know, and haven't for long years; so, of
 
 68 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 course, I know no one, and could not pass any judg- 
 ment." 
 
 "No, Aunt, no,'' cried Ferra, hastily, " Gerhardt must 
 not be disturbed with such affairs; he is ill; we must 
 never forget that, and he has, besides, many things on 
 his mind already. And then, like all invalids, he takes 
 an almost invisible speck for a black mountain. No, 
 there is no necessity of telling him anything about the 
 matter." 
 
 " Ah! now you are the old Ferra, looking on the dark 
 side of everything; I do not consider Gerhardt an 
 invalid by any means," said Aunt Edith, calmly. 
 
 " Gerhardt is a great sufferer, dear Aunt excuse me. 
 Continually with him as I am, I can better judge of 
 his condition than one who rarely sees him. Pray 
 observe him yourself, when he returns from his journey, 
 and see how worn and ill he will look." 
 
 "Yes, I can believe that," remarked Charlotte, dryly, 
 " such vexations as he will have to struggle with naturally 
 would exhaust one. Joachim will have the pleasantest 
 surprises for him in petto." 
 
 "You talk like a foolish child, Charlotte," said Ferra, 
 rebukingly. " If Joachim makes debts, it is the natural 
 consequence of Gerhardt's niggardliness. Why does he 
 not give him a sufficient sum for his needs? I take 
 Joachim's part, decidedly. I also know what it is to 
 exist on a pittance." 
 
 " Poor Ferra," said Charlotte, good naturedly, " you 
 are, to be sure, always kept unjustifiably short" 
 
 For a moment Ferra looked extremely angry. 
 
 " I do not claim to be economical," she continued, 
 " nor do I claim that Joachim is. But that one can live 
 decently on what Gerhardt considers sufficient is per- 
 fectly absurd. One must have forbearance for him,
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 09 
 
 because he is ill. How does a sick person know what 
 life means?" 
 
 " That is true! It would be impossible for Gerhardt 
 to squander his money right and left, to lose 2,000 
 thalers in one night, for instance. Does k take ability 
 to do that? I hold it to be the contrary." 
 
 Charlotte tapped her forehead amiably with her finger 
 and continued, rising, so that Ferra could not reply. 
 
 " And now, Aunt Edith, say to me one word isn't it 
 true that I have the right to give Herr von Sauden the 
 mitten, if I do not wish to marry him? He inspires me 
 with aversion. I am as afraid of him as I can be." 
 
 "Heavens, Ferra!" cried Aunt Edith, "would you 
 have that child marry that old man?" 
 
 Charlotte began to laugh again; she clapped her hands 
 together, and the musical voice rang out with a joyous 
 tone as of one redeemed, it seemed to me. I had begun 
 to feel very uncomfortable listening to the conversation 
 between the sisters. 
 
 " Yes, is it not too ridiculous, best of Aunties?" she 
 cried. " Can you not see him, so bent over, but always 
 elegant in his toilet, and very active, with an irrepressible 
 smile, his mouth puckered up as if he were just about 
 to whistle, a rose in his button-hole, and a raven-black 
 wig? ' My dear young lady,' " she said, in another 
 voice, hastily taking a duster from the wall, and making 
 a most comical face, so that one saw she was mimicking 
 her elderly wooer, " ' permit me, with the greatest devo- 
 tion, to lay at your feet some of my forest roses; they 
 long after their beautiful sister;' " and thereupon she 
 reached over to Ferra the feather-duster, with a grotesque 
 bow. Although really angry, Ferra had to join in the 
 general laugh. 
 
 "You are, and always will be, a child," she scolded,
 
 70 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 and irritably threw the duster on the sofa with so much 
 spirit that two of Auntie's favorites scampered off in a. 
 great fright. 
 
 " Shame on you, for making sport of so worthy a man; 
 it is fortunate that mother does not see you." 
 
 "Oh, Ferra!" bantered the merry creature, " if I did 
 not desire a much better fate for you, I would advise 
 your taking him yourself, but " 
 
 "Charlotte, you know I do not like any jesting on 
 that subject. I shall never marry again. I have told 
 you so a hundred times. I shall remain with Gerhardt." 
 
 " I am very sure Gerhardt will not require that 
 sacrifice of you, "said Aunt Edith, pleasantly. " Gerhardt 
 is not in the least an egotist." 
 
 " That is just what I say, Auntie," assented Lotta; 
 " and one of these fine days, Gerhardt will come and 
 present to you a sweet little bride, and then " She gave 
 a saucy little titter, and turned abruptly around. 
 
 " Gerhardt is too sensible, thank God," rejoined Ferra, 
 now thoroughly provoked. " He knows how ill he is, and 
 will not make any woman unhappy; he is much too 
 honorable for that." 
 
 " You take an entirely false view, Ferra," interposed 
 Aunt Edith, letting her knitting rest for a moment. "As 
 I said before, I do not regard him as ill, and even if he 
 were, why should not an invalid find a loving companion? 
 Gerhardt is made for a happy family life, and if a young 
 girl loves him, and can say to his question: 'I love thee 
 as thou art, and will be thine in sickness and need, as in 
 joy and happiness,' why should you object, Ferra? And 
 then, my child, you contradict yourself in your princi- 
 ples you desire to bind your young sister to an old 
 man who should be thinking, surely, much more of 
 dying than of wooing; and yet you would deny any hap-
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 71 
 
 piness to Gerhardt, who, although not in robust health, 
 is not ninety years old." 
 
 A smile played around Aunt's lips as she concluded; 
 she did not look at any of us, but stroked her Minka. 
 
 " Am I not right?" she said, after a pause. 
 
 Ferra impatiently shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 " I felt that Lotta would be supported in her obstinacy 
 here!" she said, sharply; "that is why I did not wish her 
 to come. I think there is a great difference between 
 Lotta and Gerhardt. He is heir to a rich estate, and 
 Lotta has only her moderate very moderate fortune 
 to live upon. She must marry if she wishes to continue 
 to live as she has been accustomed. She can not wait 
 for the Prince only existing in romantic stories; and the 
 silly ideal that a young girl has of one all-absorbing pas- 
 sion one only great love of a woman's heart must be 
 given up, for it is all nonsense; that is my opinion. In 
 that I am sure you will agree, dear Aunt." 
 
 She was standing up, and the small hands, covered 
 with many rings, moved restlessly as she talked. Aunt 
 Edith had become suddenly quite pale. 
 
 " Stop, Ferra," she said, in a low, imperative voice; 
 " that is enough! I have not forced my advice upon you; 
 I was consulted. I am not afraid of Charlotte; she will 
 know how to find her way alone. I beg you to consider 
 the conversation as ended." 
 
 She got up and went into her sleeping-room. 
 
 " B-r-r!" said Ferra, as the door closed behind her, " I 
 have done a fine thing now; but what did she want to 
 make me angry for?" 
 
 Charlotte cast an astonished look at her sister, and 
 then started to go to her Aunt; but before she could 
 reach the door it was bolted from within with a loud 
 snap.
 
 72 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 " What were you saying, Ferra?" asked Charlotte. 
 
 " Nothing, more than that your Aunt has no right to 
 pass judgment on such things, for in the matter of her 
 own marriage, she conducted herself in such a stupid, 
 brain-cracked manner that she compromised herself and 
 her whole family! You need not know any more; if you 
 should, you might find your reverence for her seriously 
 wavering. Will you come and drive with me?" 
 
 Charlotte did not move. All the blood seemed to 
 have left her face, only her eyes had a strange sparkle. 
 
 " I wish to know what Aunt Edith did," she said, 
 quickly. 
 
 Ferra, who was indifferently examining the pictures 
 over Aunt Edith's sewing-table, bent back the ivy leaves 
 from a portrait that was carefully concealed under them. 
 
 "There he is," she said, mockingly; "but really it is 
 not a proper subject for children," she added. "Aunt was 
 forbidden to marry him, and she ran away from her 
 parents' house in the night." 
 
 "That is not true, Ferra!" shrieked Lotta; "that is 
 not true! Say no please, please!" 
 
 She threw both arms around her sister's neck, and 
 looked her passionately in the face. 
 
 "There, there, my treasure," said Ferra, soothingly, 
 stroking her sister's blonde hair, " it is a fact. Gottlieb, 
 the old sneak, was the one who helped her to escape. 
 You know already to what unhappiness the fatal affair 
 has led, for discord and dissension have dwelt in our 
 house for many years. But release me; you are smoth- 
 ering me. Are you going to drive with me or not?" 
 
 "No, no," murmured Charlotte, withdrawing her 
 arms. 
 
 "Then remain, you foolish thing!" 
 
 And without deigning to bestow a glance on me, she
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 73 
 
 left the room. A kitten clung to the long train of her 
 thin summer dress, which she angrily shook off; then 
 throwing a last glance at Lotta, in which scorn was 
 mixed with anxiety, she vanished. Charlotte gazed after 
 her with an almost expressionless face.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 For a moment there was silence in the great room, 
 then Charlotte stretched out her hands to me. 
 
 " Lena, come," she whispered, " show me your place 
 in the cloister garden. I do not wish to see Aunt Edith 
 now; I am too unhappy. Everything seems all wrong. 
 It seems as if I had committed some evil act myself. 
 Come, come." 
 
 She drew me hastily out through the dim corridor, and 
 down the dust-covered stairs. Her arm was around my 
 waist, and she held me firmly to her; and so we walked 
 under the stone-arched passage, with the hanging vines, 
 out into the fresh evening air of the garden. Purple- 
 red lights fell through the high trees on our path, and 
 flickered over Charlotte's beautiful face, that had so sud- 
 denly changed its expression. The grass had been 
 freshly mown, and the air was sweet with its fragrance, 
 and when we sat down under the linden, near the old 
 grave-stone, Charlotte asked: 
 
 " Lena, do you believe what my sister related? I do 
 not believe it, or there is another side to tell." Then 
 she was silent, and looked thoughtfully out into the 
 garden. 
 
 " I have loved her so, loved her like a mother," she 
 continued, half aloud, and a delicate flush spread over 
 her face at these words. " See, Lena, you can not think 
 how much she is to me, and it can not pain you as it 
 does me when Ferra " She must have entirely for- 
 
 (74)
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 75 
 
 gotten that only a few days before she had lamented 
 over the lack of a family scandal. 
 
 " No, do not tell me anything," she begged, as I 
 opened my mouth to say to her that Gottlieb did really 
 secretly drive Aunt Edith away one night, though for 
 what reason I was ignorant. " You do not know her 
 well enough; let us be quiet; I want to get into a better 
 mood;" and so we sat, silent, buried in our thoughts. 
 
 Charlotte picked from a mallow stalk that grew near 
 her one purple-red bloom after another, and braided 
 them into a wreath, and I sat as still as a mouse, and 
 mended, in imagination, George's little velvet jacket, 
 and sewed on a beautiful little button; and, as I saw him 
 smile with pleasure, my thoughts went to Cousin Ger- 
 hardt, and the idea came to me that I would ask him if 
 my brother might not spend his autumn vacation with 
 me in the old cloister. And then I saw us both ram- 
 bling around together; I saw him sitting on one of Gott- 
 lieb's old horses, and tasting a thousand unknown and 
 unexpected pleasures. And when I had finished paint- 
 ing this picture, and had vowed to myself, though with 
 beating heart, to venture to make the request, I kneeled 
 down on the old grave-stone, and looked dreamily 
 between the trees out into the garden. 
 
 I scarcely noticed how Charlotte pulled and fussed over 
 my hair, and then began to plunder the mallow stalk again. 
 All sorts of romantic nonsense shot through my mind. I 
 thought of Aunt Edith as a nun that a knight had loved, 
 as in Christiana's stories, and how she went about sorrow- 
 ful in the cloister garden, until one dark night he came 
 for her, and they rode away to his castle. 
 
 Green are the woods and valleys, 
 
 The mountains high and bold, 
 
 My sweetheart is a hunter 
 
 I love him thousand-fold,
 
 76 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 sang Charlotte, in her soft and very sweet voice. I 
 turned around to her; she had placed a mallow wreath 
 on her head, and the sweet face looked almost glorified 
 in its expression under the glow of the dark-red blooms. 
 She had clasped her knees with the slender hands, and 
 moved her lithe body with the rhythm of the simple 
 
 melody. 
 
 Green are the woods and valleys, 
 The mountains high and bold, 
 My sweetheart is a hunter 
 And I love him thousand-fold , 
 
 she sang again, but now loud, and almost defiantly; 
 then she stepped past me, and walked slowly down the 
 path, with bowed head. 
 
 I followed her with my eyes, but did not dare go after 
 her. At last she vanished entirely in the thick shrub- 
 bery of the garden; only now and then her golden head 
 would gleam for a moment through the green branches 
 of the less dense foliage. 
 
 I sat alone now in my favorite little place; before me 
 lay the garden, bathed in the rich, rosy glow of the set- 
 ting sun. Even the gray walls and the columns of the 
 cross-walk were roseate. No sound, no breath broke 
 the deep quiet, the deathly stillness, and desertion that 
 filled the place. 
 
 I settled myself back comfortably on the old grave- 
 stone and threw my arms around the trunk of a cypress 
 tree; Charlotte would soon come back, and my thoughts 
 busied themselves again with the moment when I should 
 make my request to Cousin Gerhardt, to let George come 
 here in his vacation. 
 
 In my mind, I mounted the stairs of the villa, and 
 timidly entered his room. 
 
 " Dear Cousin," I said aloud, " I have such a great 
 favor to ask of you. Please, please consent that George
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 77 
 
 may visit me in his vacation; I have such a longing for 
 him, and I must also mend up all his things." 
 
 At this moment a dark shadow fell on my small per- 
 sonality; I threw my hands out, startled, for in front of 
 me, right there under the linden, so tall that the leaves 
 on its branches brushed his blonde hair, stood my Cousin 
 Gerhardt, smiling down on me. 
 
 " Well, taking into consideration those last words, it is 
 very evident the request must be granted," said he, in 
 his deep, rich voice; "so in the autumn, Cousin, we shall 
 see; but how can we get the little man here?" 
 
 I was covered with confusion. That I had been 
 carrying on my imaginary conversation with my Cousin 
 aloud, never entered my mind; but the joy that my 
 dearest was really coming to me overcame every other 
 thought, and I fairly shouted: " O, Cousin, dearest Cousin, 
 you really will allow George to come?" 
 
 I seized his hand and hung onto his arm like a very 
 child. 
 
 " O, that will be lovely, that will be a great joy, but 
 what will Aunt Edith say? Will she have him, and " 
 
 " Certainly, certainly," he said, soothingly; " but now, 
 do me a reciprocal service, Cousin; I am seeking Char- 
 lotte; she should be with Aunt Edith, but on going to her, 
 I found all the doors locked. The maid said the young 
 ladies were in the cloister garden, and true, in the most 
 melancholy corner of the whole garden I find one; but 
 where may the other be?" 
 
 "Here, Brother, here!" cried Charlotte; and in the 
 next moment had her arms around his neck. " Say, quick, 
 how are you? What brings you here? Is everything well?" 
 
 " Now Lottchen, on the one hand good, on the other 
 hand let us leave that. I have a thousand greetings 
 for you from Robert, and you are to carry Aunt Edith
 
 78 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 the news that he has been duly appointed chief forester 
 in FOlkerode. I was not to tell her, and he would not 
 write it; it was his wish that she should know of it from 
 your lips." 
 
 Charlotte's beautiful face suddenly glowed as rosy as 
 the rays of the setting sun, and her blue eyes glistened 
 with joy. She raised herself on her tip-toes, pressed a 
 kiss on her brother's blonde beard, and then ran as swift 
 as a roe, over the grass-plat and path, and soon her 
 figure vanished under the arch of the cross-walk. Ger- 
 hardt looked after her with a smile, and then turned to 
 me, and sat down on the stone bench, evidently with 
 the intention of giving his sister an undisturbed moment 
 with her aunt. " Is this your favorite place?" he asked. 
 
 I assented. 
 
 "Would you not like the park better? It is much too 
 melancholy here for such a young girl." 
 
 " No, I like it better here, because I never meet any- 
 one here, and it is exactly as if this garden belonged 
 entirely to me." 
 
 " So you have a propensity for solitude?" he said, 
 banteringly. "Who keeps the little spot in such fine 
 order you, Cousin?" 
 
 I nodded, and looked up at him shyly, because I was 
 afraid that he was laughing at me. But he was looking 
 so thoughtfully at the gray sandstone figure under the 
 ivy, that I felt he was thinking of something quite differ- 
 ent from what he was speaking. 
 
 Quietly I took my place again on the old grave-stone, 
 and so we sat motionless. Once I had the feeling that 
 he was looking at me; and, when I turned my head, I 
 saw his eyes resting upon me; then he hastily passed his 
 hand over his face, and began to draw figures in the 
 sand with a small stick.
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 79 
 
 " Now we will go, Cousin," he said, suddenly getting up. 
 " Come, it will be late before I can obtain any rest; 
 besides, I have not yet seen my mother, who is expect- 
 ing me." 
 
 I got up and walked beside him down the dusky walk. 
 He did not say anything, and we silently crossed the 
 arched passage of the old cloister. 
 
 "Take care of the dark stairway, the steps are high," 
 he said, warningly, as I hurried on before him. A fear 
 had taken possession of me, a terror, in the weird old 
 building, in this ghostly light. I felt as if an inde- 
 scribable something lurked behind each stair pillar, and 
 might at any moment seize me. I wanted to say to 
 him, " Give me your hand?" 
 
 But that would have been too ridiculous. And then, 
 as I went to spring up two steps at once, in my haste to 
 catch up with him, as he was ahead of me, I felt a sharp 
 pain in my left foot and sank on my knee. 
 
 " I was afraid of that," he said, turning around at my 
 cry of pain, and hurrying down to me. " Does it hurt 
 you much? Can you walk? No? Then I riust carry 
 you." 
 
 And like a feather he took me up, and carried me up 
 the stairs. 
 
 " O, Cousin, and you are ill?" I laughed suddenly, 
 half from embarrassment over the strange situation in 
 which I found myself, and more from amusement over 
 the evident falsity of that assertion. 
 
 "Who has said that?" he inquired, as we reached the 
 upper hall. 
 
 "Only Ferra. But it is not true, is it?" 
 
 " No," he replied, simply. " I have been ill, but I think 
 I am quite well now. Who has been adorning you this 
 afternoon, little Cousin?" he said, after a short pause,
 
 80 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 just as we had reached Aunt Edith's door; and in the 
 dim light from the old-fashioned hanging lamp under the 
 arched ceiling, I saw his blonde head bent down to me, 
 and his eyes very close to mine. 
 
 " Adorned me? " I repeated, questioningly, and strove 
 at the same time to get down from his arms, but in this 
 I did not succeed. 
 
 " Charmingly adorned," he repeated, and dexterously 
 opened the door to Auntie's sitting-room, and at the same 
 moment Charlotte's joyous laughter met me. 
 
 " Have you a little fawn to sell, Gerhardt? " she called 
 out, springing up from the sofa where she had been sit- 
 ting beside Aunt Edith. 
 
 " I will get down! " I cried, almost weeping, for even 
 Auntie laughed heartily. 
 
 But Gerhardt held me fast, and carried me straight to the 
 long pier glass, and one look showed me a well known 
 little brown face, that looked very unnatural under afire- 
 red wreath of flowers; indignant, I tore it from my head 
 and threw it on the floor. 
 
 " O, fie, Charlotte!" I cried, angrily, and limped over 
 to Auntie, who took me in her arms. 
 
 " And you did not notice when I put the wreath on 
 your head?" laughed Charlotte. "O, you dreamy little 
 piece of humanity." 
 
 "The little dreamer is a patient now," corrected 
 Gerhardt. " She has hurt her foot. Shall I send the 
 old shepherd to you, little Cousin?" he asked, smil- 
 ing. 
 
 " Go away with your shepherd," declared Aunt Edith, 
 "we can manage this alone, can we not, little one? But 
 now, many thanks, dear Gerhardt, fcr the news you 
 brought me; this is the first joyful day I have ha<? for 
 many long years."
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 81 
 
 She had taken Gerhardt's hand in hers as she spoke, 
 and looked at him, deeply moved. 
 
 "You can not know," she continued, softly, "how 
 happy it makes me to know he will be in Folkerode in 
 Folkerode. But now go; your mother will also be anxious 
 to have news of Joachim. Nothing very serious has hap- 
 pened, Gerhardt? " she said, earnestly. His face dark- 
 ened instantly. 
 
 " Yes, something very serious, Aunt, and which troubles 
 me greatly," he answered, and shook in a firm grasp the 
 hand of the old lady; then he took Charlotte's in his, 
 and giving me an earnest, kind nod, he drew her out of 
 the room. A short half hour after I lay, with carefully 
 bandaged foot, on the sofa, and followed with my glance 
 the neat, dainty figure of my aunt, as she walked rest- 
 lessly to and fro. The fine face with the delicate 
 flush, and the eyes with a light in them they had not 
 known for years, had grown strangely youthful. 
 
 She went from the sleeping- room to the sitting-room; 
 she opened the drawers in commode and press, and 
 stood thoughtfully before them, as in a half dream, while 
 I watched her aimless bustle. As for myself, I had the 
 strange sensation of being no more the same person 
 I was in the morning as if I were grown up, and 
 had become a reasonable, responsible, young woman, 
 although, to be sure, I had behaved very childishly that 
 evening. Whatever the feeling was, I could not explain 
 it. I pressed Minka, who lay near me, to my heart and 
 whispered to her: "Cousin Gerhardt has promised me 
 that George shall come, and what a dear little boy he is." 
 
 Aunt Edith had no eyes for her pets to-day. She took 
 Robert's picture from the wall, and sitting down in the 
 easy-chair near me, held it in her folded hands and 
 gazed tenderly upon it.
 
 82 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 " See, Lena," she began, " in this picture he is only a 
 child, and you will see what a dignified, stately fellow 
 the new Herr Opperforester has become. Yes, yes, 
 Lena; he has the same place his father once had; he will 
 live again in the house where he was born, and where 
 his mother lived the dearest years of her life. I can not 
 tell you how happy it makes me. The dear God is just, 
 child, and that which He has given me this evening com- 
 pensates me for all I have suffered." 
 
 And as she pressed the picture tenderly against her 
 cheek in proud mother-love, the bitter longing seized 
 me for the true, true love that my George and I had 
 lost forever. 
 
 In the meantime, Auntie had carried the picture away, 
 and as she hung it in its place, there came a knock on 
 the door, and old Gottlieb walked in. 
 
 "Good evening.Gnadige Frau," he said, remaining at 
 the door, and began, in his peculiar suppressed voice, to 
 give an account of the different commissions Aunt Edith 
 had charged him with. 
 
 They mostly concerned sick people, and money dis- 
 tributions among the poor. He held a package of little 
 books under his arm, and three or four medicine flasks 
 in his hand. 
 
 " The doctor says old Frau Neumann must have a half- 
 glass of wine every day," he finally concluded, " and I 
 thought * 
 
 " Certainly, Gottlieb," interrupted Aunt Edith, " she 
 shall have it. How is Mischen getting along in the city?" 
 
 The old man scratched his ear. "Well, Madam, not very 
 well. Bah! always high-flown, fine dresses, new straw 
 hat, like a great lady. Na, but I gave her a piece of my 
 mind," he said, significantly, to himself, and .raised his 
 heavy white eyebrows.
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 83 
 
 "I can well believe that," laughed Aunt Edith. " You 
 would not be very courteous to the poor thing, I fear; 
 but spare her. She is still young, and she has inherited 
 from her grandparents a good share of their stiff-necked 
 honesty. Kind differs not from kind." 
 
 "H'm, so?" murmured the old man; " I don't count 
 on it. Who knows? It is to be hoped so." 
 
 " Anything more, Gottlieb?" asked Aunt Edith. 
 
 " Nothing further, exactly, Madam," he answered," only 
 you will not take it amiss that Lottchen Fraulein 
 Charlotte," he corrected himself hastily- " has told 
 me that Herr Robert has been appointed high-forester 
 in Folkerode! Ah! Madam, I am not one of those who 
 presume, because they have served long in a family, but 
 to-day I can truly say, nothing has given me so much 
 pleasure for many a year." 
 
 " Give me your hand, Gottlieb, we are old friends," 
 said Aunt Edith, and her slender white fingers were laid 
 in the rough palm of the honest old hand. " My friend- 
 ship has cost you much, Gottlieb." 
 
 " Do not speak of it.Frau Berka, do not speak of it." 
 He turned away, and a pleased light spread over his 
 rugged face. " If it was to do over again, I would do just 
 as I did, even though I knew the consequences, because I 
 was sorry for you." 
 
 " Yes, old Gottlieb, I have reason to think of it all 
 to-day," nodded Auntie, and went to the table and 
 poured out a glass of wine. " There, drink to my boy. 
 I shall never forget that night all my life long." 
 
 " Neither shall I, Madam, neither shall I. What a 
 storm! You could not see your hand before your eyes, 
 and the wind blew such a gale that I thought horse and 
 wagon and all would go down the mountain; and then 
 the anxiety for fear that I should not get home again
 
 84 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 before the household were on their legs. And as I thought 
 everything was going so fine, and knew you were safe 
 with the old grandmother, and was about to make my 
 team comfortable, and put away the things, there the 
 devil sent to this day I don't know how Frau von 
 Demphoff out in the early morning. She came straight 
 across the yard, in a big calico apron, as if she were 
 going to the milk cellar I must say, the Frau was 
 always busy and active. My mouth dropped open when 
 she called out tome: 'Where have you been so early, 
 Gottlieb? How the horses look!' My! Whenever I 
 think of it" 
 
 " Yes, I know, Gottlieb; let us forget it." Aunt Edith 
 walked up and down, much moved by his remem- 
 brances. The old man had come farther into the room. 
 
 "No offense meant, Madam," he said, deprecatingly; 
 "but it came so fresh before my mind. I never felt worse 
 in my whole life, except when my old wife died, as at 
 that time when I had to go to my master's room and 
 give an account of my night's journey. O, my good- 
 ness!" 
 
 Long after, my aunt kept up her restless pacing; even 
 until the cloister clock had struck midnight, and I had 
 been in my great canopy bed for two hours. I lay there 
 awake; I could not sleep; my foot pained me some, and, 
 moreover, my imagination ran riot; a thousand things 
 chased one another through my brain; I asked myself a 
 thousand questions I could not answer. 
 
 All my life till now passed before me in confused 
 order, and everything seemed to group itself about Aunt 
 Edith. 
 
 She was now in her sleeping-room; the door opening 
 into mine was, as usual, open, and a broad stream of 
 light fell on the checkered floor in my room; a shadow
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 85 
 
 passed in regular beat between the rooms, and the light 
 step of the old lady sounded uninterruptedly. 
 
 There was something in this restless walking which 
 excited me. At last I fell into a condition between sleep- 
 ing and waking, and that moving figure was no longer 
 that of my old aunt, but a young, blooming girl that was 
 actively and secretly preparing to leave her father's 
 house; but why? And then she appeared to me as she 
 was now pale, her hair silvered by many, many winters; 
 and "Cats' aunt," I whispered, softly; "Cats' aunt." 
 
 Then the dear old face bent over my head: "Are you 
 not asleep yet, Lena?" 
 
 I shook my head and threw my arms around her neck. 
 " Auntie," I asked, " dear Auntie, why did Gottlieb 
 drive you away so secretly that night, and why did you 
 come back again and become ' Cats' aunt?' " 
 
 " Ah, child, you are much too young to hear such 
 sorrowful stories. Sleep now, child," she commanded, 
 and pressed a kiss on my forehead. 
 
 Then she went into her room, and soon extinguished 
 the light. 
 
 But confused dreams hovered around my bed or stole 
 under the faded silken curtains. Dark-red flowers were 
 there, and Gerhardt's eyes looked so strangely down 
 into mine; and then .between, I heard Charlotte's singing: 
 
 " My sweetheart is a hunter, 
 And I love him thousand-fold," 
 
 and in the same moment I was entirely awake. 
 Auntie's Robert was also a hunter! Like a flash, this 
 fact illumined the chaos of my thoughts. 
 
 " O, dear Charlotte, now I know something!" I said, 
 almost aloud; and soon I slept soundly until morning.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Since that night weeks have passed, and they brought 
 me only joy. George was here, and I saw with delight 
 how his pale face grew brown and rosy in the health- 
 giving country air. The beautiful boy had taken all 
 hearts by storm. Even Ferra sometimes pressed his 
 little brown face, with the dark Southern eyes, against 
 her cheek, and called him her little page. 
 
 Charlotte, however, in her extremely amiable, yet mis- 
 chievous way, accused Ferra of coquetry. Ferra knew 
 very well that near the dark complexion of the boy her 
 delicate, fair beauty was doubly enhanced. Ferra bore 
 such little attacks with admirable gentleness; that is, 
 she contented herself by calling Charlotte enfant terrible, 
 and then lapsing into silence, well knowing that in a 
 word contest with her young sister she would be badly 
 worsted. 
 
 Charlotte had entirely recovered her good temper. 
 Gerhardt had given a courteous but decided refusal to 
 her old suitor, saying, " she was entirely too young," and 
 the rejected lover had gone on a journey, of course 
 with the assurance that he should not give up the hope 
 of yet possessing the young lady. 
 
 But for the time being he was disposed of, and Char- 
 lotte troubled herself no more about this "spectre," as 
 she named him. Ferra, however, seemed to share his 
 hopes, for she always spoke of him with a certain famil- 
 iarity, as if he already belonged to the family. 
 
 (86)
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 87 
 
 At such times it was most amusing to watch Lotta. 
 She had a very successful manner of appearing not to 
 hear anything of the conversation, that worked uncom- 
 monly well. Usually she sang softly to herself, and, 
 exactly at the moment when Ferra was at the climax of 
 her speech, she would interrupt her with such a far- 
 fetched question or remark, that the artistically arranged 
 dissertation of her sister fell as flat as a collapsed house 
 of cards. 
 
 In that time I was often asked to the villa, almost 
 always by Charlotte. Only once I saw Aunt Demphoff 
 when I went to present my little brother to her. I had 
 some difficulty in getting him to come with me, for, in 
 his child's logic, he did not think it necessary to say 
 " how do you do" to the wicked aunt who hated his 
 mother. 
 
 " You have no orders to give here, Lena," he insisted. 
 " Everything belongs to Cousin Gerhardt. I will not go 
 to her." 
 
 " You must, or you will displease our good cousin," I 
 said; and then he passionately threw himself into the 
 arms of Gerhardt, who would hardly let the boy go from 
 him, so that I was almost jealous before I succeeded in 
 carrying my point. 
 
 It was curious to see the two together the tall, 
 commanding-looking woman and the little boy. His 
 brown face had become pale, his little hands, tightly 
 clenched, were hidden behind him, and under their long 
 lashes his eyes looked up with an inimitable mixture of 
 contempt and childish curiosity. 
 
 " George has come to see you," I said, timidly. 
 
 The cold, impassive face did not change. It was the 
 same room in which I had seen her first, and the same 
 feeling of being gradually frozen possessed me.
 
 88 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 She did not answer; the gaze that she gave to the 
 little upturned face was very penetrating. 
 
 " What is your name? " she asked. 
 
 " George von Demphoff," he answered. 
 
 " How old are you? " 
 
 " Eight years." 
 
 Then she stepped to the bell, and ordered the servant 
 who entered to bring lemonade and cakes into the next 
 room, and to inform Fraulein Charlotte that we were 
 there. She then invited us to go into the said adjoining 
 room, and dismissed us with the remark that Charlotte 
 would soon be down. 
 
 Nothing would have kept George another moment in 
 her presence. 
 
 He rushed out of the door and vanished sans fa$on 
 into Gerhardt's room, because our cousin had said he 
 should drive with him into the fields. 
 
 Charlotte, who had come into the room, laughed 
 heartily, and explained, when I expressed surprise at his 
 knowledge of the place, that Gerhardt, the first day the 
 boy had arrived, had brought him into the villa, and the 
 little lad had been there nearly every day since. 
 
 " Mamma's refreshments seem to be quite disdained," 
 she concluded. "She will be astonished; Joachim 
 would have had every little crumb eaten by this time. 
 Apropos, he is coming very soon with a half-dozen 
 comrades to hunt; then you will have plenty of life in 
 the old cloister, for they will all sleep there there 
 is no place here for them. And Ferra's nerves, O, 
 heavens!" 
 
 But there was something to happen which was more 
 interesting than the hunt; Aunt Edith was expecting her 
 son. He was coming for the first time since this new 
 dignity of high-forester had been bestowed upon him.
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 89 
 
 It was a delight to see the expression cf quiet joy on 
 Aunt Edith's face, as she went about making prepara- 
 tions for the coming of her darling. And she had no 
 reproof for Charlotte, who, in celebration of this 
 expected event, arranged scarlet neck-ribbons for all the 
 cats, and hung a little bell to each one. The cats, while 
 being arrayed in their decoration, kept up a frightful 
 mewing and hissing, and afterward rushed pell-mell, in 
 great fright, to their mistress. But old Gottlieb, who 
 happened to be going through the room, muttered some- 
 thing, as we were indulging ourselves in great hilarity 
 over the sight, and we heard him say to Aunt: " Frau 
 Berka, it seems to me that we were not so silly and child- 
 ish in our young days as young people are to-day. Now, 
 just hear them! " 
 
 "Ah, Gottlieb, you have forgotten! " answered Aunt 
 Edith. " You know the saying: 'A boy must be a fool 
 seven years;' if he misses a single hour, he must begin 
 all over again from the beginning." 
 
 But the old man was not convinced. 
 
 " Nay, nay, everything is changed in the present day. 
 In our days young people did not dare open their 
 mouths except when their father sneezed, and then they 
 would say ' God bless you.' " Whereupon Charlotte nat- 
 urally sneezed very loud, and the old man, with unshaken 
 earnestness, called out, " God bless you, Fraulein Char- 
 lotte," without seeing the joke. 
 
 Gerhardt came sometimes to Aunt Edith's. After the 
 evening that I was so careless as to sprain my ankle, he 
 would come to inquire how it was getting along. The 
 red wreath that I had so angrily thrown away, however, 
 and which I so gladly would have had back again, had 
 disappeared, and Auntie, in her busy preparations for 
 Robert, could not spend the time to hunt for it, but she
 
 90 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 thought Jette must have swept it out, as she had never 
 seen it since. 
 
 George's vacation was drawing to a close. He begged to 
 be permitted to stay a few more days beyond the time set 
 for his return, because, as he betrayed to me, Cousin Ger- 
 hardt would have a birthday; he was not to tell, however. 
 
 " Lena, what can we give him? " he asked me. 
 
 What could we? We must give something to Ger- 
 hardt, who had done so much for us, and had given us 
 so many lovely days together. George was resplendent 
 in a brand-new suit. The whole class would envy him, 
 and the Frau Doctor and Christiana would clap their 
 hands when they saw him. 
 
 We went to my room and counted over my little sav- 
 ings. I had 20 groschen, which I had hoarded like a 
 miser, to buy George a Christmas present with, but that 
 didn't matter. George must stand back, and the unself- 
 ish little boy was perfectly willing. 
 
 " But what can we buy, Lena? " 
 
 "Yes, what? " I thought and thought; finally a happy 
 idea came to me. 
 
 " With this money we can buy some wool, George, 
 and I will knit him a scarf Cousin Ferra is always say- 
 ing that his throat troubles him, and so it will be very 
 welcome." 
 
 This proposal met with George's entire approval. The 
 housekeeper purchased, secretly, the wool for me in the 
 town, and in my favorite place, in the cloister garden, 
 I knit with eager haste, a long, warm birthday present, 
 while George's great brown eyes followed its growth 
 with intense interest. 
 
 The little scene at the presentation of the gift is one 
 of my dearest remembrances. 
 
 When I had finished it and was instructing George
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 91 
 
 with what words he should present it to Cousin Ger- 
 hardt, he crossed his arms on his back and declared, 
 flatly, as he had not knit the shawl, and his money did 
 not buy the wool, he had no right to give it to him. All 
 coaxing, prayers, and entreaties did not shake him in his 
 resolution, and so, if our cousin was to have his present, 
 I must undertake the solemn act myself. 
 
 " Dear God, let it be very, very cold to-morrow," I 
 prayed the evening before, so I could have the practical 
 proof of the usefulness of my gift. 
 
 And, sure enough, there dawned such a windy, damp, 
 raw September day that we shivered with cold in our 
 cool rooms. George, as well as I, was delighted at the 
 favorable circumstances, and he stood the entire morn- 
 ing at the window watching for Cousin Gerhardt, who 
 had told him he should come himself to inspect the 
 rooms for the guests. 
 
 As I sat meditating what I should say when I pre- 
 sented my scarf, George cried out, suddenly: 
 
 " He is coming! He is coming, Lena! and has no scarf." 
 
 The next moment I was out of the room and already 
 down the corridor, on my arm the soft, warm present. 
 I leaned over the balusters of the stairs, but when I saw 
 him coming up, my heart began to beat so that I flew 
 back from the lighted stairway, into a dark corner of the 
 corridor. There I stood, with such a distressed look on 
 my face that one would have supposed, that instead of 
 having good wishes for him, I had bad tidings. He did 
 not see me until he stood close before me, and his seri- 
 ous face suddenly brightened. 
 
 " Dear Cousin, I would I wish to congratulate you on 
 your birthday," I stammered, " and George and I wish 
 to give you this scarf when it is windy and cold "' 
 
 " I thank you very, very much, little Cousin," he said,
 
 92 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 heartily, and took both my hands; " this is an unexpected 
 pleasure. But now you must wrap the scarf about me; 
 it is just such weather as one needs to be bundled up." 
 
 He stooped away down to me, and too happy for words 
 I wound the soft texture around his neck. 
 
 "O, how fine!" he said, "and a thousand thanks." 
 And then he bent down again to me, and his eyes looked 
 into mine with the same peculiar expression as at the 
 time when he carried me up the stairs; but only an 
 instant, for down the corridor on a full run came George, 
 who hung, kissing and shouting, on his neck. 
 
 "Lena has deceived you," he cried; "she has given 
 you the scarf all herself, with her money, and she knit it 
 in the cloister garden!" 
 
 " Hush," I said, angrily, but Cousin Gerhardt took the 
 little traitor up and kissed him, and then sat him on his 
 shoulder; one end of the new scarf was used for reins, 
 and they ran down the corridor till they reached Aunt 
 Edith's door, as if on a wild hunt. 
 
 And then, of course, Aunt Edith must admire the scarf, 
 and express the greatest surprise as to where and when 
 I could have knit it, etc. 
 
 Before we went to bed that night, George said to me: 
 
 " Do you know, Lena, everybody was pleased with our 
 scarf but Cousin Ferra." 
 
 " What do you mean, George?" 
 
 "Truly, I saw it; when Cousin Gerhardt went into his 
 room, he was thinking, and he held the scarf close around 
 him, and she asked him what common gray thing he had 
 around his neck; but I told her right there that you 
 had knit it, and that it was something very beautiful." 
 
 " And what did Gerhardt say?" I asked, with an unac- 
 countably frightened feeling. 
 
 " I have forgotten that, Lena."
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 It was a gloomy, dark October day. The leaves of 
 the trees hung wet and limp on the branches, and the 
 walks through the park were covered with fallen leaves. 
 It was the night before the great hunt. The guests were 
 expected at any moment, and the stir and bustle sounded 
 strangely in our usually so quiet house. In the corri- 
 dors echoed the steps of the servants; doors were 
 slammed, and the jar and clang vibrated along the high 
 walls. Cousin Gerhardt and Ferra were inspecting the 
 rooms for the last time, and one could hear Ferra's slow, 
 distinct speech away off in Auntie's sitting-room. And 
 here, too, were signs of festivity, for Aunt was expect- 
 ing a dear guest this evening her son. Gottlieb had 
 fastened over the doors garlands of evergreen, and 
 among the dark-green branches glowed crimson berries 
 of the mountain ash. The solid old inlaid furniture 
 shone like new, and Auntie went about in her quiet 
 way through the rooms, giving a touch here and there, 
 and commands to her busy workers. " Jette, be careful; 
 do not knock that cup off with the hunting piece; it was 
 my dear husband's favorite cup;" and, " Lena, you can 
 gather some flowers in the cloister garden, to decorate 
 the cake plate." 
 
 I laid my work away to go out, when Charlotte's slen- 
 der figure appeared in the door. She held one hand 
 behind her back, and when she came close to Aunt Edith, 
 she presented her with a beautiful bunch of late roses. 
 
 (93)
 
 94 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 " There, Aunt; never mind the cloister flowers," she 
 said; "I nearly begged on my knees for these from the 
 gardener, for Ferra had selected them and laid claim to 
 them especially for herself. You must put them this 
 evening at Robert's place at the table." 
 
 " Will you stay, Lottchen?" asked Auntie, delightedly, 
 turning the bouquet round and round. 
 
 " Yes, as long as you will let me, for it is exceedingly 
 uncomfortable yonder differences of opinion between 
 Ferra and Gerhardt on account of Joachim B-r-r! it 
 is frightful to me, and mamma is out of humor. May I 
 remain until evening? I should like to, but" she 
 shrugged her shoulders dejectedly. " Is Robert coming 
 in his own carriage?" she added. 
 
 " Certainly, dear. I shall have to see his turn-out, 
 surely, and it is not a hard trip. I do not know what 
 hour he will arrive; he only wrote this evening." 
 
 It was near the vesper hour, and Charlotte sat with 
 us and ate daintily of the honey-bread and sipped her 
 coffee. She "wasn't at all hungry." Then we tied the 
 red ribbons around the cats' necks, but without the 
 bells, and Charlotte advised Auntie to shut up the good 
 little beasts when the shooting began, for a cat could 
 hardly be distinguished from a hare. 
 
 Afterward I walked with Charlotte through the sleep- 
 ing-rooms and admired the large canopy beds, the old- 
 fashioned wash-stands, the glistening, fine, white linen, 
 and the immense rooms that seemed even of greater 
 dimensions in the half-light of the cloudy day. Almost 
 the whole suite of rooms was in order, except those of 
 the Abbess House, which were, as always, silent and 
 deserted. 
 
 Charlotte had put her arm around me and become 
 very quiet. She had been very merry, tra-la-ing and
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 95 
 
 singing bits of songs, but, as we came out of the last 
 room and back again, through the long corridor, there 
 were no longer songs or words on her lips, but in her 
 eyes lay an expression of dreamy happiness. 
 
 "Sing some more," I begged, "sing again: 
 ' My sweetheart is a hunter!' " 
 
 She started away from me, and gave me a keen glance. 
 
 " No," she said at last, " I do not wish to sing any 
 more to-day." 
 
 When we entered Auntie's room we found her sitting 
 at her writing-desk; the lid was raised, and she had 
 pulled out a number of drawers and partitions, in which 
 she had all sorts of things stowed away. The desk occu- 
 pied a prominent place on one side of the chimney; on 
 the other side was a flower-stand, full of fine, healthy 
 plants; the sturdy India-rubber plant, with its thick leaf, 
 and the graceful palm, which gave dignity to their more 
 dainty mates. 
 
 As Auntie was sensitive to the cold, Gottlieb had kin- 
 dled a bright wood fire, and the yellow flames mirrored 
 themselves on the old inlaid floor and threw bright rays 
 on Aunt Edith's gray dress. Charlotte curled herself 
 up in a big easy-chair near her and gazed thoughtfully 
 on the delicate hands so busy just now at the writing- 
 desk, and I sat down on a low stool by the fire and gave 
 myself up to the magic of the dreamy twilight hour. 
 
 Suddenly Auntie's hands were still, and as I looked 
 up she held a dried, fine-leaved wreath in her hand. 
 
 "See here, children," she said, softly, "this was my 
 bridal wreath." 
 
 I looked at the dried treasure with a mixture of awe 
 and curiosity, and then at the little old lady. It seemed 
 most strange and improbable that she could ever have 
 been young, and worn a wreath of flowers. Charlotte,
 
 96 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 also, bent over and looked with shining eyes on the 
 dried token of a long-passed happiness. 
 
 "Ah, yes," began Aunt Edith with a tender voice. 
 " When the wreath is fresh and green, people think that 
 heaven with all its blessings has descended upon them. 
 Even I thought so, children, and yet mine was such a 
 sad wedding. I was an orphan, like you, Lena, but God 
 keep you from such a sad experience. I made this 
 wreath myself. I had not one friend, and the grand- 
 mother of my betrothed was my only attendant, and the 
 only one in the church, except the pastor, when we stood 
 before the altar. Tears were mingled with my prayers 
 there, but as I went through the dewy, fresh woods, by 
 my husband's side we were married very early in the 
 morning to avoid notice ever farther into the deep 
 forest, where lay the house which was to be my home; 
 as the sunshine in the dew-drops sparkled on each tiny 
 leaf; as the sweet, fresh odor of the woods breathed upon 
 me, quite alone with the man whom I loved so much, to 
 whom I was so dear; and as the blessed truth filled my 
 heart that no one any more, save God alone, had the 
 right to separate us, a holy joy possessed me, so sweet, 
 so full, so pure, that no bride, with the most brilliant 
 and splendid nuptials, could have experienced more. 
 
 " And if at any time I feel rebellious toward the dear 
 Father, because He has laid upon me so heavy a cross, 
 I recall my wedding-day, and the moment when I stood 
 by his side, with his arm around me, just at the place 
 where first one could see the gable of our house, that 
 was almost hidden in the luxuriant beech woods. 
 
 "And I seem to see again his strong, young face, that 
 looked away with glowing eyes, and hear his true- 
 hearted, good voice as he spoke, ' there greets you, your 
 hcme, Edith.'
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 97 
 
 "In that one hour was contained so much; all sor- 
 row lay so far behind me, that it might never have 
 been. I could conceive of no discord or dissension in 
 the world. It was an hour of the purest, most unalloyed 
 blessedness." 
 
 She still held the faded wreath in her hand, and the 
 sweet remembrance of that morning tinted her cheeks 
 with almost a youthful flush. Then she hastily laid it 
 back in the box. 
 
 " Children, why do I speak of it all?" she said, and 
 brushed her hand over her eyes. " What do you know of 
 such things? There; look, isn't that pretty?" 
 
 And smiling, she held toward us a baby's shoe, all 
 trodden down on the side. 
 
 " That was his first little shoe, Lena; how tiny, is it not?" 
 
 "O, give it to me a moment!" entreated Charlotte, 
 softly, and as the little shoe lay in her hand she stroked 
 and caressed it, nearly the same as Auntie, only in shy 
 haste, as if she were ashamed. 
 
 "Heavens!" interrupted the old lady, "how the time 
 flies, and in my reminiscences I have almost forgotten 
 what I was after here. There; see, children, that is to be 
 Robert's to-day," she said, and held up a hunting-knife, 
 with richly-gilded handle; "it belonged to his father, 
 and he shall carry it now." 
 
 Then she began to put back in their places the little 
 trifles and remembrances, while Lotta examined the 
 knife; finally she laid it on her lap, and when Auntie 
 asked for the little shoe, she gave it back lingeringly. 
 
 " No, no, Lotta dear, you can not have that," she 
 said, laughing. " You must leave me something." 
 
 Charlotte was crimson, and turned her face hurriedly 
 away. It was still in the room, and dusky; the fire had 
 gradually burned out. 
 7
 
 98 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 "Now, tell me something, children," said Aunt Edith, 
 settling herself comfortably in the easy-chair Charlotte 
 had given up to her; "it will make the time pass 
 more quickly." 
 
 "Ah, no, Auntie dear," begged Lotta, "you shall tell us 
 something, and do you know what?" She had kneeled 
 down and taken Aunt Edith's hand in hers. " Tell us 
 why you left here secretly at that time? You can not 
 think how I long to know." 
 
 " Ah, dear child, the story is almost too sad for two 
 young things like yourselves." 
 
 " Please, Auntie dear, O, please," coaxed Lotta. " Was 
 it not true that they were unkind to you; that they 
 would not let you marry your betrothed?" 
 
 " Yes, that was it," said Aunt Edith, " and God knows 
 I did not make my resolution lightly; it was no easy 
 thing, but I could not do otherwise. With all my 
 heart and soul I clung to him whom I was ordered to 
 forget at any cost. If I had only known why; there was 
 no charge made against him. Good and upright; a 
 nobler man could not well be, and from infancy 
 well-known; and a frequent guest at our house 
 my brother counted him his dearest friend. That 
 we loved each other, your father had known for a 
 long time, Charlotte, and my dear mother whispered to 
 me on her death-bed, her almost dying words: 'If it 
 should come that Herr Berka wishes to make you his 
 wife, Edith, do not say no. He is as true as steel, and of 
 a noble nature.' Soon after that your father married, 
 child, and from that time on a persistent opposition to 
 our love was begun; not openly, but that was a thousand 
 times worse. Sometimes a fortnight would pass that I 
 did not see my lover, although he came to Folkerode 
 many times during the week; almost always it happened
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 99 
 
 when I was driving with my sister-in-law, or out 
 with her somewhere, and if he found me at home it 
 would be made impossible for us to speak more than a 
 few words to one another. 
 
 " He was not one of those, however, that willingly 
 fight with closed visor. One day after I regret to say 
 it a letter from him, that he had sent me by a messen- 
 ger, failed to reach my hands, and he could not longer 
 endure such interference, he rode over to FOlkerode, and 
 went straight to my brother's room. I was sitting with 
 my sister-in-law, who had Gerhardt on her lap. Your 
 mother has never been a woman of many words, Char- 
 lotte, but that day she made a long speech to me, the 
 substance of it being that Herr Berka was a hot-tem- 
 pered, violent man, and not calculated to make any 
 woman happy. I did not answer, but bit my lips till 
 they bled, to keep from crying. Soon I heard through 
 the closed door loud conversation, and recognized my 
 lover's angry voice. The next moment I stood between 
 the excited men, and declared I was Herr Berka's 
 betrothed, and should so remain. 
 
 " ' We will see,' said your father. 
 
 " ' Yes, we will see,' I repeated, and with that began 
 our hostility. All day, I would remain locked in my 
 room, unceasingly racking my brain, what now to do. 
 I had prevailed upon Berka, that day, not without the 
 most earnest opposition, to stay away from Wendhusen, 
 giving him the assurance that I would remain true to 
 him. I never thought of flight, although a thousand 
 plans had gone through my head. Then I did the sim- 
 plest, most natural thing; I went to your mother, I placed 
 before her how long and how truly we had loved each 
 other, and entreated her to abandon her anger against us, 
 and use her influence to soften her husband's will; she had
 
 100 CLOISTER WENL.HUSEN. 
 
 only to put herself in my place, and think it was her love 
 that was so hindered and thwarted. ' Never!' she 
 cried, with passion, and in a tone that left no doubt in 
 my mind that I had nothing to hope for from her. 
 
 " ' Very well,' I answered, ' then I must see what I can 
 do for myself,' and went to my room. I began imme- 
 diately to put my things in order. What I should do 
 was not clear in my mind, only to get away, away at any 
 cost. Then I slipped down into the servant's room, 
 motioned to Gottlieb, at that time an active, strong man, 
 and ordered him to be at the two beeches with the 
 light wagon. Off to one side from FOlkerode lay a 
 small town, where Berka's aged grandmother, a widow, 
 lived. She was almost childish, and I knew her only 
 from his description, and that her home had taken the 
 place of his father's house to him, as his parents died in 
 his childhood; and so, in the night and fog, Gottlieb 
 drove me to her; secretly, as a thief, I left my father's 
 house. My resolution almost failed me, as I stole down 
 the steps, and in spite of the unhappy situation I nearly 
 turned back, because of the almost overpowering misery 
 and sorrow I felt. It seemed to me as if I had left 
 indelible disgrace behind, as if I had laid something that 
 was worse than a curse on the honorable standing of 
 my home. 
 
 "But I hesitated only a moment, and as the horse 
 went on, and the outline of the old cloister vanished from 
 my sight at the next turn in the road, I wept, and 
 sobbed, and prayed, as one in despair. 
 
 " The old lady was not a little astonished to have, in 
 the middle of the night, the betrothed of her grandson 
 ask for shelter; but although she could not clearly com- 
 prehend what it all meant, she was kind, and took me in 
 and cared for me.
 
 CLOISTEit WENDHUSEN. 101 
 
 " The next morning I sent a letter to my brother, telling 
 him I should not return again to his house, and at the 
 same time wrote to my betrothed, telling him where I 
 was and what I had done. My brother did not reply to 
 my letter, but sent me the necessary papers. From 
 another source I learned that a storm of passion made 
 the rafters ring in the old rooms at Wendhusen, and that 
 the fugitive was to be cut off from any further recognition 
 as sister. Ah, children, you do not know how hard it 
 was for me at that time, and yet the first years of my 
 married life were the happiest I have known. But 
 finally fate rushed upon us, like a storm through the 
 forest. First my husband had the misfortune to be 
 obliged to shoot down a poacher. Week after week we 
 would find threatening notes or letters thrown into the 
 house declaring revenge. It was a terribly anxious time, 
 that year of 1848. 
 
 " One evening I sat with my husband in the sitting- 
 room. He had just returned from the forest, and we 
 were playing with Robert, when suddenly there was a 
 report, and a ball whizzed close over his head and shiv- 
 ered a mirror, hanging opposite, into a thousand frag- 
 ments. 
 
 " Every day I parted from him with a deadly fear at 
 my heart, and would go about the house restless and 
 tortured with anxiety till I finally heard again his dear 
 footsteps, and could throw my arms about him who was 
 my all. Children, in such times one learns to pray. 
 You do not know how, in such moments, when the heart 
 is torn with love's fears, an earnest prayer strengthens 
 the soul and helps one through so many unspeakably 
 fearful hours. 
 
 " But ' God wills, whoever directs,' says an old prov- 
 erb, and so there came that terrible day when I was
 
 102 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 never to hear his step again, when they carried him into 
 his house dead and cold." 
 
 Aunt was silent, as if exhausted by emotion. 
 
 My eyes were wet, and I involuntarily reached out for 
 Charlotte's hand, but her chair was empty, and in feel- 
 ing around I touched her soft hair. She was kneeling 
 before Aunt Edith's chair, and soft sobs came to my 
 ears. 
 
 " Do not weep, dear," said Auntie, gently. " I said 
 the story was too sad for such young folks who as yet 
 had lived without sorrow. Heaven guard you from 
 such agony as I passed through! Truly you, little 
 Lena, you know already what it is to stand by a coffin 
 and not be able to realize that in that narrow, awful 
 room rests a beloved face that we shall never see smile 
 again, and nevermore hear words from the cold lips; that 
 which was our entire, greatest happiness, is lost, forever 
 lost. 
 
 " And now, after they buried him, I had to live my 
 life and meet all its imperative demands. I must care 
 for my child, and these cares were pressing hard. My 
 extremely small pension was not enough for our daily 
 needs, to say nothing of Robert's education. My hus- 
 band, when we were married, had written my brother in 
 proud self-reliance that he would renounce the dowry of 
 his wife. In a certain length of time I must vacate the 
 forest-house, and knew not where to go or of whom to 
 ask counsel. 
 
 " About four days before I was to leave the dear old 
 house a fire broke out in the night I never shall forget 
 that night! I was awakened by a shriek so dreadful, so 
 blood-curdling, that I sprang to my feet. When I think 
 of that shriek I feel again as if an icy-coldness was 
 rushing through my veins. At the same moment there
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 103 
 
 was a blow on my window-shutter, and the voice of a 
 huntsman cried, ' Fire! Fire!' and as I raised the blind a 
 fiery glow burst into the room. The barn was in full 
 blaze. 
 
 "I do not really know what I did then; to snatch 
 Robert from the bed and to get him into his clothes was 
 the first thing. Then I mechanically searched around 
 for little things that I could take with me. When I dis- 
 covered later what I had saved I had to smile, and yet I 
 could not have taken away anything dearer. It was the 
 box with my bridal wreath, the baby shoe, and that 
 hunting-knife, also a couple of silver spoons and some 
 linen. 
 
 "And when I stood under the dark trees with my 
 child, a little bundle in my hand, and stared into the 
 fiery glow as if spell-bound, everything seemed to me 
 a wild, weird dream. 
 
 " I remember that a multitude of people from the sur- 
 rounding hamlets stood around, but they moved 
 neither hand nor foot to save anything. It was 1848. 
 They tried to throw one of the foresters in the fire. I 
 heard the bellowing of the drunken crowd; saw how 
 they struggled with him. They threw out of the win- 
 dows of the house what was inside, piece by piece of my 
 simple furniture, to which clung sweetest remembrances; 
 flung them out to be carried away or demolished by the 
 horde. It was a horrible, desolate scene, lighted by the 
 red flames, that now had seized the grand old oaks that 
 surrounded the house, but they succeeded in saving the 
 dear old house itself. 
 
 " Robert clung to me in fright, and old Diana, my hus- 
 band's favorite, a splendid spaniel, stood near me utter- 
 ing low growls. Then I heard my name called, as by a 
 thousand throats. I had felt that they would seek me.
 
 104 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 My danger and my boy's put life into me. I picked up 
 the child and fled. How far I went before I sank down 
 exhausted I can not tell; it was on the edge of a high- 
 way, and just then a wagon came along; I called out, 
 and when it stopped I recognized the pastor of a neigh- 
 boring town. The old gentleman started when he saw 
 me. ' The high-forester's house is on fire,' I gasped, 
 summoning all my strength to get into the wagon with 
 Robert. ' Cursed rascals,' he murmured, then he asked 
 where he should take me? 
 
 " ' To Wendhusen,' I said, mechanically, already burn- 
 ing with fever. I thought when all else failed there was 
 still my father's house, and in that moment of agitation 
 I had forgotten everything which had separated me from 
 it. It was nearly midnight when we got here, and the 
 bell at the gate sounded in my ears like a funeral knell. 
 Then lights passed quickly here and there, the great 
 door of the Abbess House opened, and my brother, who 
 in those troublous times was prepared at any moment 
 for alarming news, came out upon the steps, followed by 
 one of the servants. I supported myself by one of the 
 iron knobs of the balusters and looked in his eyes; he 
 started when he recognized me; for a moment a severe 
 expression passed over his face, then came the old look 
 of goodness and benignity which was his true nature. 
 
 "'Give me a shelter, Werner, me and my child,' I 
 entreated, but in a set way, like something memorized, 
 for I seemed no longer to have power to think, and my 
 tongue failed me. ' They have burned the house over 
 my head, and I am ill.' He caught me in his arms as I 
 fell, and carried me into the house, and then I sank 
 into unconsciousness. 
 
 " I had a long, severe illness. I have absolutely no 
 remembrance of it, but as I returned to health I remem-
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 105 
 
 ber some days; the first day I sat up in the bed, for 
 instance it was in that sleeping-room there the 
 memory came back of all that had befallen me, in all its 
 horrible details. Gottlieb's wife nursed me, and from 
 her I learned how near death I had been. 
 
 " It was a sad awakening, and at first I wished so 
 often that I had died at that time. My relations with 
 your parents remained forced; yes, hostile, although I 
 tried to propitiate them, and did not shrink from humil- 
 iating myself. They took Robert from me, however; he 
 was to be brought up with Gerhardt and Joachim. This 
 dwelling was given to me for my use, and one day my 
 brother came to me, the first time in many years, to say 
 that he would pay me interest on the capital, once dis- 
 dained by my husband, but I must promise, however, not 
 to interfere in any way with the education of my child. 
 
 " What could I do? I had no choice! I dared not 
 go out of the house, that at least was a roof over my 
 head, with my boy, for I was not able to support us. I 
 was still an invalid, and it was no wonder. 
 
 " So I lived here, a life gloomy and solitary, deprived of 
 my one ray of sunshine, my only joy, for my child was 
 likely to be entirely alienated from me. 
 
 " When I heard the merry shouts of children's voices, 
 that came up from the corridor below, my heart would 
 throb in expectation and feverish agitation; but how many 
 times I waited in vain. Days at a time I never saw him, 
 and when, sometimes, I heard outside in the hall hesitating 
 steps that I recognized, and I would run, trembling for 
 joy, through the rooms to open the door, there would 
 stand my little son, shy, and almost defiant before me, 
 and would submit to my caresses with evident resistance. 
 He was no more my bright, loving boy that once hung on 
 my neck with such impetuous tenderness.
 
 106 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 " ' Robert!' I would entreat, almost on my knees before 
 the child, ' do you not love your mother any more? 
 Have you forgotten how beautiful it was when we went 
 into the woods to meet papa in the evening, and we saw 
 the deer, and I braided you a wreath for your little hat? 
 Tell me, do you never think any more of that?' Some- 
 times he would nod his head, and for a moment his 
 face would light up, and the stubborn look would disap- 
 pear; but usually he would answer: ' But then, it is much 
 better here.' 
 
 " I would beg him to come again very soon. I began 
 to talk to him about his father, to tell him how good and 
 noble he was. He would scarcely listen to what I said; 
 but would go skipping about from one place to another, 
 impatient to get away. ' But Robert,' I would cry, 
 almost in despair, ' have you no pity for mamma, that 
 she must always be here alone?' Then he would look 
 at me with a childish, indifferent expression in his eyes, 
 and shake defiantly his curly head, and if I wept he 
 would run away, and would not come again, until, for 
 longing and grief, I was nearly desperate, and would 
 send Gottlieb for him, who would succeed, by all arts 
 and promises, in decoying the boy to me. What did I 
 not live through in those days in my anxiety over the 
 development of the character of my child, powerless as 
 I was to help him! I heard him complained of as a 
 quarrelsome, overbearing boy, and Joachim's shrieks 
 showed me often enough that they were constantly 
 fighting. One day I heard, in the vestibule of the 
 Abbess House, Joachim's loud screams of passion and 
 Robert's angry retort: ' You detestable cub, I will give 
 it to you.' 
 
 "At first I sat still; then, as the tumult grew louder, I 
 laid down my work and ran along the corridor. At the
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 107 
 
 foot of the stairs lay both boys in a fierce struggle, and 
 the setter belonging to Gerhardt near them howling 
 dismally, with one of its forepaws in the air. Robert 
 was on top of the roaring Joachim, and with fists and 
 feet was beating him soundly. I drew the little mur- 
 derer back. He turned round to me, his face red with 
 heat and anger. 
 
 " 'He was tormenting the dog!' he cried, choking with 
 indignation. 'I must punish him, the black sneak!' 
 
 " It was impossible to hold him. Just then, your mother, 
 Charlotte, stepped out of the library, and we stood fac- 
 ing each other for the first and last time since my flight 
 not even by your father's coffin did we reach out our 
 hands. We stared at each other in terror; the few years 
 had made serious ravages in her once blooming face, 
 and she hardly recognized me. The fresh young girl 
 she knew had become a grief-stricken, rebellious woman; 
 my mirror told me that every day. So we stood in the 
 vestibule, and between us struggled the children in silent 
 rage. 
 
 " Then your mother aroused herself from the dazed 
 condition into which my unexpected presence had thrown 
 her, and suddenly pulled my boy to his feet and raised 
 her hand to strike him. He looked up at her defiantly; 
 she pushed him back and shook her own flesh and blood 
 violently, all without a sound, and with tightly-closed 
 lips. I took hold of my own child and drew him to me 
 to reprove him, when he tore himself from me, and 
 throwing his arms around your mother, buried his head 
 in her dress. 
 
 "There I stood, deserted and helpless! A smile 
 appeared on the face of my sister-in-law that cut me to 
 the heart. It was not malicious oh, no; it was a happy, 
 an almost heavenly smile, that made her cold face
 
 108 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 strangely beautiful. I turned and went back to my 
 room, and there I lay more wretched than ever before. 
 I believed I had lost the love of my child forever; and 
 so I lived for years having no joy in anything, and no 
 hope. The children grew up; you were born; Gerhardt 
 and Robert were sent to the Gymnasium at B . Only 
 rarely came news from them; Robert was in the Cadet 
 Corps. They spent their vacations here, and then their 
 old hatred would break out anew. It was in those 
 days I received the name of ' Cats' aunt.' You asked 
 me once, Lena, why I was called so. On one of the 
 anniversaries of my husband's death, the full con- 
 sciousness of my blighted life came to me, and, over- 
 whelmed and full of despair, I went out and sat down on 
 the margin of the forest, and asked uncounted times why 
 the Lord had sent to me so much pain. In my misery 
 doubts of God's goodness and justice assailed me. I 
 even questioned the existence of a God. I had become 
 wicked. I was afraid of myself, and seemed to have lost 
 the power to think differently or better. My mind 
 seemed paralyzed. I only felt my pain, my desolation, 
 and then it seems ridiculous now and yet I thanked 
 the dear God so heartily. As I sat there, looking into the 
 green branches with burning eyes, and thought of the 
 man that death had robbed me of, and the passionately- 
 loved child that life had taken, and how utterly alone I 
 was in the wide, wide world something pulled on my 
 dress and crawled up, and as I looked down, startled from 
 my reverie, there on my lap was a little, white, half- 
 starved kitten, looking at me beseechingly with its sharp 
 little eyes, and mewing mournfully; then it began to play 
 with the fringe of my shawl, so contented and amusing, 
 that I forgot for a moment, in watching it, my trouble. 
 I took it in my hands and stroked it, and a real childish
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 109 
 
 joy, which I can not describe, came over me as I played 
 with the little creature. 
 
 " I almost smothered it in my fondness, and that it 
 was not afraid of me, did not run from me, stirred me 
 deeply. Truly, when I came back to the house with it, 
 satisfied with my play, and it sat in the window and 
 daintily licked its paws, it swept over me how poor I was 
 that a dumb brute was able to give me so much pleas- 
 ure, and the bitter tears filled my eyes, and yet, the con- 
 fiding little creature was as dear as a friend. All the 
 rest are her descendants; isn't that true, Minka? O, 
 really, we understand one another," she said, caressing 
 the cat that had been sitting on the arm of her chair for 
 a long time. 
 
 " There is an end to everything in this world, chil- 
 dren," she continued, then, as Charlotte still wept, and 
 I resolved to treat the cats better than ever before, 
 " and there was to that frightful time. I found my boy 
 again; he became my child once more, body and soul. 
 God be praised, Who heard my passionate entreaties! 
 The past lies far, far behind us, and to-night I would 
 exchange with no king in the world." 
 
 " Is it not true, dear Aunt," asked Charlotte, softly, 
 "that time that Robert was so very ill with typhoid 
 fever, that " 
 
 "Yes; then he learned to know his mother, dear, but 
 he was not given up to me without a contest, for your 
 mother insisted upon nursing him. They had brought him 
 into a room there, across the corridor, and if the old 
 
 family physician had not interposed his authority 
 
 but we will leave that. The day when he first again 
 said, 'Mother, dear mother,' and to-day, are blessed 
 days." 
 
 Charlotte's soft weeping had grown mute.
 
 110 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 " Mamma wanted to care for him?" she asked, incredu- 
 lously. " O, dear Auntie, you must be mistaken; she 
 always has had such fear of contagious diseases." 
 
 " I am not," said Aunt Edith, decidedly. 
 
 "But I do not understand," said Charlotte, almost 
 impatiently; " you said a while ago that she did not 
 strike him at that time, and now, that she wanted to 
 nurse him, and I know positively that mamma does not 
 like " 
 
 " Now you have your little head full of doubts," inter- 
 rupted Aunt Edith; "you know that your mother treats 
 Robert coldly, almost rudely; that she scarcely takes any 
 notice of him; yes, still more, that she is not at all will- 
 ing to have him here, and yet, I tell you, she insisted 
 upon taking care of him in his illness; it seems very con- 
 tradictory? Yes, but never mind, Charlotte, and do not 
 think of it any more; it would be no use, for it is an 
 enigma. How strange is a woman's heart! Who can 
 fathom it?" 
 
 Charlotte was silent; it was very still in the room; the 
 clock ticked monotonously, and in the fire-place glowed 
 the ashes of the last coals. They glowed like fiery eyes 
 and threw out a soft light in a small circle, and in this 
 glimmer I saw Charlotte's head suddenly raised up from 
 Aunt Edith's lap, and she turned to the window as she 
 rose to her feet, as if listening; then she bent down to 
 Aunt, I heard a kiss, and a loving " good-night," and 
 the next moment the room door closed behind her. 
 
 "Charlotte! Charlotte!" Auntie called after her; but 
 she was already beyond call. " What is that whimsical 
 child going to do now?" she said, softly. Again it was 
 still, and I saw in my mind again all that picture that 
 Auntie had made so clear with only a few strokes. 
 
 " Poor, poor Auntie!" I thought, while mechanically
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. Ill 
 
 my hands laid brush-wood on the few live coals. Then I 
 snuggled up to Auntie's knee. Her fingers threaded 
 lightly through my hair, and stroked over my face; I 
 held them fast and tried to kiss them. The door flew 
 open and a fresh, buoyant man's voice sounded in the 
 room. 
 
 " Good evening, my good, my dear little mother! " In 
 a moment I was on my feet, and someone else knelt in 
 my place, someone whom I had never seen. 
 
 " Robert! Robert! you have come already? " she cried; 
 "my boy, my fair-haired laddie! " 
 
 I shyly drew back not to intrude upon the meeting 
 between mother and son. The dry brush-wood blazed 
 up clear and bright, and the playing flames showed me a 
 large, very handsome man, with dark, curly hair, whose 
 eyes, beaming with joy, rested on Auntie's face. He had 
 raised her up, and now held her in his arms. I had 
 remained standing in the middle of the room, and my 
 glance rested in fascination on his splendid physique. 
 Then there on the top button of his green hunting- 
 jacket, hung by a single little thread, was a knot of pale- 
 blue ribbon, which surely did not belong there, and this 
 knot yes, only a short time ago, I saw it in Charlotte's 
 hair or was I bewitched? 
 
 Quietly I slipped away, all the time puzzling over what 
 I had seen by the flickering flames. Then it seemed as 
 if someone softly sang: 
 
 " My sweetheart is a hunter, 
 That I love a thousand fold." 
 
 "O Lena, you foolish thing! " I whispered, half aloud, 
 " what do you know of love?" 
 
 I pressed my hands before my eyes. It was as if a 
 veil, the existence of which until now I had had no sus- 
 picion, lifted a wee bit, and I had seen into something
 
 112 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 wonderful, heavenly; as if the air was flooded with 
 the scent of roses, that I imagined I really inhaled, I 
 know not why it was, but suddenly burning tears started 
 from my eyes, and a hitherto unknown, passionate feel- 
 ing of envy filled me. O happy Charlotte! 
 
 During the evening, as I sat by the table with Auntie 
 and my new cousin, and his pleasant, cheery words 
 sounded in my ear (we had instantly become friends), 
 my eyes furtively glanced to the upper button of his coat, 
 but the place was empty. And when Aunt began to talk 
 of Charlotte, and regretted that he had not come a few 
 moments earlier, because then he would have met her, 
 a flush mounted to his temples, and he was silent. 
 
 O Cousin Robert,if you had known what I had noticed! 
 
 " Mother," questioned Robert., suddenly, and he laid 
 his sun-browned, shapely hand on his mother's, which 
 looked like a child's in comparison, " does Joachim live 
 at the villa or here? " 
 
 " Here, so far as I know," replied his mother, and 
 looked at her son with rather an anxious expression on 
 her face. 
 
 "I wish he would remain there," he said, frowning 
 deeply. 
 
 " Robert!" she entreated, fervently, " you will not " 
 
 " I shall keep out of his way, Mother, I shall have noth- 
 ing at all to do with him. I pity Gerhardt. The young 
 lord sits this time so deep in the mire, I think they can 
 scarcely pull him out, in spite of Ferra's desperate 
 attempts to marry him off. The handsome Joachim is a 
 poor apology for a man." 
 
 " Poor Gerhardt," sighed Aunt Edith. 
 
 Robert shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " If it were not for Aunt Theresa and Ferra he would 
 long ago have gone to the dogs. But let us leave him;
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 113 
 
 he is not a profitable subject of conversation. When are 
 you coming to visit me, Mother?" and he looked affec- 
 tionately into the eyes of the old lady. " Folkerode desires 
 to greet you; the old place wants to see you once more."
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 There was not much sleep for anyone that night; there 
 was such a tumult in the old house, that one might 
 have thought all the hunters from the Hartz Mount- 
 ains had come over, and were storming through the echo- 
 ing corridors. Doors were slammed, commands given, 
 and such loud conversation carried on, one would almost 
 think it was a matter of life and death under discussion. 
 
 Servants hurried here and there; luggage was dragged 
 about; and above all other noises sou-nded, dictatorial 
 and loud, a somewhat hoarse man's voice. I also recog- 
 nized Gerhardt's orders. I knew well the deep, rich 
 tones. 
 
 Exclamations as: 
 
 " Famous estate!" " Enormous trees!" " By Jove, a cap- 
 ital beast! Down!" "What do you say to scat?" denoted 
 that Joachim and his guests had taken possession. 
 
 Even after the gentlemen had left the corridor and 
 gone to their rooms, we could plainly hear them talking 
 and laughing. 
 
 Aunt Edith and Robert sat together on the sofa in 
 the sitting-room; I had retired early to my room; I knew 
 they must have so much to talk about, they two alone. 
 
 It was quite late when I heard her go to bed. 
 
 For two hours or more, confused dreams, from which 
 I would awake with a start, kept sleep at bay. 
 
 In my dreams I saw a little being, in bridal veil, steal 
 down the long, dusky corridor; she wore a wreath of 
 
 O14)
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 115 
 
 deep-red mallow blossoms, that showed from under the 
 veil, and Auntie's cats, two by two, for attendants walked 
 behind her. There below, on the stairs, stood Aunt 
 Theresa, with a strange smile on her strong features. 
 
 " There comes Robert with Charlotte," she said, and 
 as I turned around to see them I awoke. 
 
 I got up the next morning with a dizzy head, from my 
 restless night. Aunt Edith's face, however, beamed with 
 happiness. 
 
 " They were off long ago. Did you not hear, Lena, 
 when the noisy crowd departed? Heavens, what a bed- 
 lam! I have not closed my eyes all night." 
 
 Then came Charlotte, and as she stood in the high old 
 room, in her simple dark-green woolen dress, that clung 
 in soft folds to her slender figure, the beautiful golden 
 hair, in heavy braids, coiled high on her head, and orna- 
 mented with a deep-red rose, she seemed as I had 
 never seen her before, much, much more charming; a 
 sweet, tender, happy expression had taken the place of 
 the usual look of arrogant sauciness, and endowed her 
 with a most charming womanliness. 
 
 Dreamily she looked before her, and now and then a 
 roguish smile would steal around the sweet mouth, 
 especially when her glance fell on Robert's picture hang- 
 ing over the sewing-table. 
 
 " They will be back at 3 o'clock, dinner is to be served 
 at half-past; let us see, what time is it now?" she said, 
 hastily, interrupting Auntie's regrets that she had not 
 stayed a little longer, as Robert had arrived only a few 
 moments after she left. 
 
 " Do you know I laid awake nearly half the night?" 
 she continued. "Your story took such a hold of me 
 that sleep was not to be thought of. You dear, sweet 
 little Auntie, how you must have suffered; but now it is
 
 116 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 all past; now the beautiful days have come, and wonder- 
 fully beautiful all the rest of your days shall be. 
 
 "Yes, dear, if the good God wills," replied Aunt 
 Edith, who had a hunting-jacket of her son's on her lap, 
 and was sewing on a button. 
 
 "He will permit it, Auntie," nodded Charlotte, assur- 
 ingly, an unshaken confidence in her charming face. 
 Then she moved quickly about the room, and the little 
 nose was evidently scenting something. " Ah, ha! no 
 mistaking it," she said. " Tobacco smoke has been 
 here. So he has already contracted that habit? but I 
 
 will" She broke off, suddenly, and turned her blushing 
 
 face away. " I suppose a hunter is obliged to smoke," 
 she said, as if making excuses for him. "What do you 
 think, Lena?" she asked, still with her face turned away. 
 " Shall we not go into the cloister garden? It is an age 
 since I was with your old Frau Abbess, and Aunt has so 
 much here to do that " 
 
 "Yes, go, children, if you want to. How is it, Lott- 
 chen, do you eat with the gentlemen?" 
 
 "No; mamma complains of a headache and Ferra has 
 her stereotyped megrim. In truth, it is all very disa- 
 greeable on account of Joachim, and ill temper runs 
 high b-r-r!" with a little shudder. " I wonder that all 
 the walls in the villa do not tumble about our heads. 
 Even the youngster screams incessantly, to-day, and is 
 so wayward no one can do anything with him. Ger- 
 hardt looks dreadfully worried. Joachim, on the con- 
 trary . Do you remember what papa used to say, 
 
 Auntie, dear! 'A hundred hours of worry pay not a 
 farthing's worth of debts.' This proverb Joachim seems 
 to have made his own, for in spite of his disgrace, for it 
 amounts to that, he is as gay as a lark. Come, Lena, I 
 will not think of it again to-day," she added.
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 117 
 
 We went out the next moment, along the corridor and 
 down the stairs, and into the cloister garden that 
 seemed doubly cheerless and deserted under the gray 
 autumn sky, with the shrubs half-shorn of their foliage 
 and the unraked paths, on which the dry leaves lay 
 who knows how thick. 
 
 A fine mist lay on the highest tops of the trees, the 
 air was oppressively heavy, and from a distance now 
 and then came the report of a gun. 
 
 Charlotte walked restlessly up and down in the garden. 
 She did not seek the old grave, but seemed deep in 
 thought. 
 
 " It might be so beautiful in the world if it were not 
 for the tfs and buts" she said, half aloud. "There is 
 always something that, spectre-like, stands behind us 
 and says: 'Be happy, but not too happy, for I am 
 here.' " 
 
 Then she looked again at her watch, and finally sat 
 down on a little bench, drew me down beside her, and 
 was very still. 
 
 "Stay with me, Lena," she begged, as I got up once 
 to pick some asters that were blooming between some 
 high nettles and really seemed to be pleading to be 
 released. "Pray do not leave me; I must have some- 
 one near me to-day; I am afraid of myself." 
 
 I sat down obediently and wrapped my shawl about 
 me, for it was chilly. 
 
 Finally Charlotte sprang up with a bound, her face 
 brightened, and she began to sing softly as she walked. 
 
 " How silly one is to fret about what might happen," 
 she said, breaking off from her singing. " Come here, 
 sweetheart, you shall have a kiss for keeping me com- 
 pany," she said, gayly, and carried out her promise. 
 
 In the dark cross-walk she stopped suddenly still;
 
 118 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 then she flew rapidly up the steps and leaned, breathing 
 heavily, against the newel of the balusters. I saw how 
 pale she had become, and that she was trembling in 
 every limb. 
 
 Then a man's voice came to us, quiet and earnest, as 
 a father speaks to his child. Our glances followed the 
 direction of the sound till they rested on a partly-open 
 door, one of the dark, heavy, always-locked doors of the 
 Abbess House. 
 
 "Gerhardt," whispered Charlotte; "they are in the 
 library." 
 
 "And if you make me a thousand promises of 
 improvement, if you even give me your word of honor, 
 I have no longer any faith in you. You have destroyed 
 my confidence. In my eyes you no longer possess the 
 right to speak of your honor, for you have lost it. 
 Since you yet we will not speak of that further." 
 
 Charlotte had crouched down on the stairs and her 
 face was deathly white; her eyes were closed as if a 
 frightful blow threatened her, which she could no longer 
 ward off. 
 
 My breath seemed to choke me. I cowered against 
 the balusters, shaking with fear of I knew not what. I 
 felt something dreadful must come after those words. 
 
 But everything was still one could have heard a 
 feather fall. 
 
 " In spite of all that," began Gerhardt again, " I will 
 do what is possible to give you at least the appearance 
 of honor in the eyes of the world not on your own 
 account, no, I have no sympathy for you, but for the 
 sake of the good old name that our father left to us. It 
 is well that he is spared the knowledge of what has 
 happened through the fault of his son. I will commit 
 the mad act of paying 13,000 thalers of your so-called
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 119 
 
 debts of honor, and in so doing am wronging the rest 
 of us. When I learned yesterday in what manner you 
 have been able to extend your credit, I felt like putting 
 a bullet through my head, although that is what you 
 should have wished to do to yourself. I have asked 
 myself again and again how it was possible for you to 
 do this thing, to yourself and to me, and I find no 
 answer. I will take good care that no one besides our- 
 selves shall know of this affair; the interests of the 
 family demand it. One thing more: You have, up to 
 the present time, used up a fortune of 20,000 thalers, 
 and besides, I have, during your short career as officer, 
 paid at least 10,000 thalers' worth of debts for you. Now, 
 this is the last, for I can not ruin myself for you. Ferra, 
 also, possesses almost nothing of her former fortune, 
 and the demands her luxurious habits make, besides the 
 education of her son, fall upon my shoulders. I shall 
 be obliged to retrench in every way; consequently, this 
 money is the last you will receive from me, so govern 
 yourself accordingly. That is now all that I have to 
 say to you. I think, moreover, you know how we stand; 
 we are " 
 
 "For God's sake, come," whispered Charlotte, getting 
 up, and going hastily down the steps. 
 
 I would have followed her, but my strength failed me 
 from fear, for I heard a spur-ringing step, and a young 
 man came out and approached me, fortunately with- 
 out seeing me. It was a slender, elegant figure, in the 
 stylish hunting costume of the present day. He slashed 
 about with a small riding-whip, and his handsome face, 
 which strongly resembled Ferra's, wore an expression of 
 sullen anger. 
 
 He muttered an oath, remained standing a few 
 moments at the foot of the stairs leading to the upper
 
 120 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 corridor, thoughtfully twisting the ends of his well-kept 
 mustache, then began to whistle softly and went on. 
 
 As soon as he was out of hearing, I slipped down the 
 steps and found Charlotte sitting on one of the stone 
 benches in the cross-walk. She had been weeping, and 
 great drops still hung on the dark lashes. 
 
 " Magdalena," she said, earnestly, " what we have heard 
 remains a secret between us, always, always! Promise 
 me that." 
 
 " Yes, Charlotte," I answered. 
 
 " Because he still is my brother," she said, softly, and 
 then broke into bitter weeping. 
 
 I sat down beside her, caressed and kissed her, and 
 would so gladly have comforted her had I only known 
 how. 
 
 " Do you know what he has done?" I asked. 
 
 She shook her head; " I can not think it must O, 
 let us leave it, I can not speak it aloud, I suffer so for 
 Gerhardt," and again she bent her head and wept. 
 
 As soon as it was quite dark we went up to Aunt 
 Edith. It was very still above, in the old house. Only 
 occasionally came up the murmur of the animated con- 
 versation at the dinner-table. They ate in the immense 
 dining-hall on the lower floor, directly under the rooms 
 occupied by Aunt Edith, and to-day the big roasts were 
 turned on spits, in the basement kitchen. 
 
 Robert had been with his mother in the interval, and, 
 as she said, had waited a long time with his cousin; he 
 was the last one at the table. And Joachim had come 
 in a moment to see her, as in duty bound to inquire how 
 she was. "He is just the same," she continued, 
 " handsome as a picture, careless, and shallow. He 
 was angry. I'm quite anxious to know whom he has 
 been quarreling with."
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 121 
 
 Charlotte did not answer. I furtively seized her 
 hand. Ah, yes. Everything seemed so enviable in that 
 splendid villa, to the careless observer, and yet, sorrow 
 sat there, in some one corner, and looked around with 
 great, lurking eyes, and made anxious, by her presence, 
 all who dwelt beneath its roof. 
 
 " Poor Gerhardt, how much he has to trouble him," 
 whispered Charlotte. 
 
 Evening came, and as Aunt Edith lighted the lamp, I 
 slipped out. I knew Gottlieb sat in our kitchen, and it 
 was my greatest pleasure to chat a little with the old 
 man. He possessed an inexhaustible fund of fables and 
 stories of his home; of mighty dances on the Blocks- 
 berge; of uncomfortable ghosts of the wild hunters, 
 and the giant Bods, who pursued the king's daughter, 
 which he was never weary of relating to George and me. 
 
 This evening it was not the desire to hear his tales 
 that drove me out. I was filled with anxiety and unrest. 
 I wanted to see something beside Charlotte's sorrowful 
 face. 
 
 Aunt Edith's kitchen was as pleasant as a sitting- 
 room, with its fire-place and the shining copper and brass 
 vessels hanging on the walls, the clean-scoured pine 
 table, the cupboard for the table-ware, the large flowered 
 wall-paper, and the old Dutch clock with its polished 
 brass weights, which ticked on the wall; between hearth 
 and table stood Jette's spinning-wheel; and it was a 
 pleasant picture to look upon Gottlieb's rosy-cheeked 
 grandchild spinning in her clean kitchen. 
 
 This evening she was not there; she had gone to carry 
 some soup to some one of Aunt's countless sick people. 
 Gottlieb sat in her place and carved a twirling-stick, a 
 work at which he was peculiarly skillful. 
 
 He stood up respectfully as I came in; and after I had
 
 122 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 sat down by the hearth, he continued with his carving, 
 and began, without being asked, to relate: 
 
 "Far westward, in the depths of the mountains, 
 there runs a pretty stream through the valley that is 
 called the Selke; it has made a fine bed for itself along 
 the meadows and high mountains on both sides, and 
 above, Castle Falkenstein looks boldly down and mirrors 
 its towers and battlements in the clear river. 
 
 "Opposite the castle is a mountain that is called the 
 Tidian, and if I had what is hidden there I would be 
 richer than the king; but no one knows in what place the 
 treasure lies, or how to raise it up. 
 
 " Many hundred years ago there came a knight from 
 Falkenstein to a goldsmith's in the next town, and asked 
 to see some women's ornaments, for he wanted to buy a 
 gold neck-chain, or bracelets, or some such thing that 
 women love, but there was nothing good enough for him. 
 
 " Then the goldsmith brought two little, sparkling coins 
 in his hand, and said: ' Noble Herr Knight, as you do not 
 think that gold fine enough, I will make you a little 
 chain from this, and finer you will not see the world 
 over.' They glistened so they almost blinded the knight, 
 and he said: ' Where have you found such splendid gold?' 
 
 " 'An old shepherd brings it to me, that is in your serv- 
 ice, noble Knight,' answered the goldsmith. Then the 
 knight threw himself upon his steed, and riding home 
 with great speed, summoned the shepherd before 
 him. The shepherd turned pale, but would not tell 
 where he had found the gold, and all the commands and 
 threats were of no avail. Weeks of imprisonment could 
 not make the old man give up his secret. There " 
 
 But I heard no more, for outside in the corridor 
 sounded suddenly a man's voice, in loud, excited tones; 
 almost fiercely it rang out with anger and wine:
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 123 
 
 " I know you!" cried the voice. " Do you think I have 
 forgotten how, like a sneak, you always took every 
 opportunity secretly to interfere with me, and get the 
 advantage." Old Gottlieb sprang up, and looked anx- 
 iously to the door; his rugged old face had grown pale. 
 " I pray you, Joachim," sounded now Robert's deep voice; 
 "you are excited and provoked. I swear to you I have 
 not spoken one word with Gerhardt about your affairs; 
 forget our childhood; we are men now, and I never meant 
 any wrong to you." 
 
 A scornful laugh was the answer. 
 
 "You miserable knave!" thundered Robert's voice, 
 now full of rage. We heard hasty steps forward, then it 
 was still a moment. 
 
 " Reinsberg will further communicate with you," said 
 Joachim, calmly, and each syllable was clearly enun- 
 ciated. 
 
 A spur-clanging step, a door flung to, then no sound, 
 no tone, deep quiet again as before. The knife and 
 stick had slipped from Gottlieb's hands. He stood, 
 deeply troubled, in the middle of the kitchen. 
 
 "I feared it! I feared it!" he said, half aloud. "It is 
 just as it used to be. What will come out of it, and 
 what can one do?" 
 
 He shook his head helplessly, then he looked over to 
 me, as if he would ask advice; but I had no idea what 
 the quarrel was about, and especially what the last 
 words signified. 
 
 " If it had been twenty years ago, I could have taken 
 him by the ear and led him to his father," continued 
 Gottlieb; " but to-day, the father is no more, and the boy 
 has become a man. I can not do anything, Fraulein, and 
 if they both " 
 
 He stopped, and again looked questioningly at me,
 
 124 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 but what the old eyes really wanted of me, I did not 
 understand. 
 
 "They never could endure each other, Gottlieb, isn't 
 it so, they were always quarreling as children?" I asked, 
 for the sake of saying something. 
 
 "Yes, that is true, and an old quarrel is easily 
 renewed. For three days I have gone around in fear 
 and trembling, because I knew they were together, and 
 now it has gone so far, who knows how it will end?" 
 
 His head sank, and he stood in troubled thought. 
 "Ah, God pity you;" he spoke low, as if to himself. 
 " What more must be lived through in this house?" 
 
 " Tell me, Gottlieb," I said, a nameless dread pos- 
 sessing me, " what do you mean? Is it so dreadful for 
 them to disagree? It is all over now, and they separated 
 quietly " 
 
 " H'm, child, yes, because it was done. They would 
 not fall on top of one another, and tear the buttons off 
 their jackets like school-boys. What did I hear Joachim 
 say? 'Reinsberg will communicate with you further.' 
 Do you see? That was plain, no use to waste any more 
 words; they take a pair of pistols then it is I or 
 you!" 
 
 I had sprung up; I was trembling with fear. "A 
 duel? How terrible!" As quick as lightning a series of 
 fearful possibilities flew through my mind. " Aunt, Char- 
 lotte," I whispered; it was too terrible to think of. 
 
 "It can not be, it is not possible, Gottlieb!" I stam- 
 mered. "It is not possible. You must be wrong; why, 
 they dare not do it! Do you hear, Gottlieb, they dare 
 not do such a thing! I what can I do? O, what can 
 I do?" 
 
 I shook the old man's arm with impetuous fear. 
 "Would to God I was mistaken," murmured the old
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 125 
 
 man, " but I know how it goes. What they have both 
 said they can never take back, and yet it is not worth a 
 charge of powder. What can you do? Nothing, child, 
 nothing. Pray to-night for the old mistress, in there, 
 that the dear God does not take her all. That is all you 
 can do, little one, that is all you can do." 
 
 "O, I can try," I cried. "I will go to Robert; I will 
 entreat Joachim " 
 
 " Herr Robert can do nothing," declared Gottlieb, 
 shaking his head. " He was the assailant; and go to 
 Herr Joachim no Fraulein I would place myself with 
 outstretched arms before his door. Where the wine has 
 possession of the head, is no place for a pure, young girl." 
 
 " Lena! Lena! where are you?" called Aunt Edith at 
 this moment, and her dear face looked around the arras- 
 door that separated the kitchen from her room. 
 
 "Quick! come, come, I will show you something, and 
 anything lovelier you have never seen." She reached 
 her hand to me, and seemingly without any will of my 
 own, I went over to her, gave her my hand, and let her 
 draw me from the room. 
 
 "Wait a minute," she whispered, in the dark room 
 that usually stood empty, but now occupied by Robert. 
 " There, in the sitting-room, sjts something that is one 
 and yet is two, that is transported to heaven, and yet 
 weeps great tears, little one. It is the most beautiful 
 sight that you can see in the world. Observe it closely, 
 that later sometime you may know what it is; and do not 
 forget, in your astonishment, to make a pretty speech. 
 Truly, Lena, are you curious? I think I can hear your 
 breath, it goes so fast, so now go in." 
 
 I wanted to cry out: "Leave me, you poor, dear Auntie!" 
 but she had pushed me swiftly through the door. I 
 groped with my hand after the nearest chair; the room,
 
 126 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 the lamp, everything swam before my eyes. Only one 
 thing fastened itself clear and full on my vision. Auntie 
 was right, nothing could be more beautiful in all the 
 world. 
 
 There stood the two that were one, close in each 
 other's arms. Charlotte's fair head lay on the breast of 
 the noble-looking man, her eyes were raised to his, full 
 of a tender, fond devotion as if they would say: " Here 
 alone is my place." 
 
 His face I could not see, but when he raised his head 
 and looked over to me, I saw that his eyes were red with 
 weeping. 
 
 " Little Magdalena," cried Charlotte, " come here and 
 give me a kiss; you little sly one, I have long seen from 
 your shining eyes that you had found out our secret." 
 
 She kissed me warmly on the mouth, and by the 
 movement, one of the coils of her lovely hair loosened 
 from its place, and fell heavy and glistening down over 
 her shoulder. 
 
 " Like a golden chain, Lottchen," he said, and touched 
 the glorious hair. 
 
 "Wait!" she said, merrily, drying quickly the last tears 
 that hung on her lashes. " It shall be a chain for you." 
 
 She raised the tress, threw it around his neck and 
 fastened the ends again, so that he was imprisoned in 
 glittering fetters. 
 
 " Now you are mine forever. Now nothing can sepa- 
 rate us but death do you hear, you poor man? There 
 is no chance possible for you to run away." 
 
 I looked at him anxiously. I saw his face whiten, and 
 saw how he suddenly pressed the slender figure to him. 
 
 "Nothing now, Charlotte; but let us not think of that 
 to-night. We live to-day you and I, and our dear 
 mother our dear, good mother."
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 127 
 
 That made Charlotte, with a little cry of love, spring 
 from his arms, and kneel down before the arm-chair of 
 the old lady. They laughed, and wept, and kissed each 
 other, and, between whiles, Charlotte chattered of the 
 green forest, and that she should live there; and, just like 
 her dear little mother, on foot and in her bridal dress, 
 she would go with her husband to the dear, solitary 
 huntsman's house. And Auntie sat listening, the light 
 of blessed joy in her face, and then she threw her 
 arms around Charlotte's neck. 
 
 "My little daughter," she said, warmly; " O, who 
 would have thought " 
 
 I could not bear any longer the sight of this happiness, 
 knowing such a danger threatened it. I threw myself on 
 my bed and wept and prayed, and my teeth chattered; 
 I was in a nervous chill. A thousand impossible plans 
 darted through my brain. I reached a hundred conclu- 
 sions, only to give them up again; and the conscious- 
 ness of my weakness and powerlessness only enhanced 
 my excitement. 
 
 I ran again to the kitchen, but Gottlieb was not there; 
 then my impulse was to go to that room Joachim's 
 room. I shrank from the handsome man and his rude 
 bearing. He did not know me; but in spite of all I had 
 the courage to go to him. What should I say? I did 
 not know; my heart beat so, I seemed to hear it. Tim- 
 idly, I laid my hand on the latch a kind of vertigo 
 seized me. Inside I heard a chair shoved back, and at the 
 same time the howl of a dog in pain, mingled with 
 brutal blows from a whip, that were pitilessly descending 
 on the poor creature. 
 
 "You d n brute!" he screamed. 
 
 I flew back, terrified, and close behind me the beast 
 who had been kicked from the room. She was a splen-
 
 128 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 did brown pointer. She rushed by me violently and into 
 my room. I cowered down in the darkness near her, 
 and threw my arms around her neck, and the poor 
 creature licked me and whined softly. 
 
 From Auntie's room sounded Charlotte's happy voice. 
 She laughed, and joked, and teased. O, I could think 
 how charming she was, in her abandonment and happi- 
 ness! but I did not wish to see her in my misery. 
 " My sweetheart is a hunter." 
 
 She was singing now her favorite song; and now she 
 was talking again; and now a merry laugh; and some- 
 times between his deep voice, so soft, so tender. Then 
 she missed me, and before I knew it, Charlotte stood 
 before me with a lamp, and asked, wonderingly, what I 
 was doing with Joachim's Lady. 
 
 I was frightened, and yet was glad I could say that 
 Joachim had beaten her so that she ran to my room. 
 
 A fleeting shadow passed a moment over Charlotte's 
 rosy face. 
 
 "How revolting!" she cried, as she stroked the beast, 
 then drew me back with her into the sitting-room. 
 Lady was shut up for the time being in Robert's room, 
 as a great contest seemed imminent with the cats. With 
 all the self-control I could command, I sat and heard 
 Charlotte build the loveliest air castles. She would " not 
 say a word about her new happiness to-night to Ger- 
 hardt, 'for he would not be able to sleep; and sleep is 
 very necessary to him in these trying days;' but to-mor- 
 row, when the guests are gone, then I will prepare him 
 with the most skillful diplomacy, and then Robert, you 
 must come in. O, heavens! what will Ferra say?" she 
 laughed gayly, " and mamma?" 
 
 She stopped suddenly. 
 
 Robert sat by her side. He seemed to be drinking in
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 129 
 
 every word from her lips. He held her hand in both of 
 his, and now and then softly stroked her fair hair, as if 
 he could not realize that the beautiful girl at his side 
 really and truly belonged to him. 
 
 There came a knock on the door, and a servant 
 entered. He announced that Herr Lieut, von Reins- 
 berg wished to speak with Herr High-forester Berka. 
 
 I knew what he wished; yes, Gottlieb was right. I 
 gazed after the slender man as he went to his room 
 with a firm step. 
 
 It seemed to me I must catch hold of him, and invol- 
 untarily I sprang up and stretched out my hand, then 
 sank back again, trembling in every limb. 
 
 " Child, you are ill!" exclaimed Charlotte; " come here; 
 what hot hands you have; you have a chill." 
 
 And Aunt Edith commanded I should immediately go 
 to bed. 
 
 With all sorts of lively bantering and chatting, they 
 put me to rest, and Charlotte treated me as if I were a 
 baby four years old. 
 
 " Now lie still," she said, " and you shall have a lull- 
 
 y~ ' Licsa had a sweetheart, 
 
 Gretta wished one as fine. 
 Ah Gretta, seek valley and mountain, 
 But there is only one like mine.' " 
 
 She sang and laughed. " Did you ever see a better?" 
 I clasped my hot head with my hands; what might now 
 be determined between Joachim and Robert? 
 
 " Let her be, Lottchen;" said Aunt Edith, and bent 
 lovingly over me; "she is quite used up. Sleep, my little 
 one; that is the best restorer; sleep; I will come again 
 soon, and see how you are." 
 
 And then it was still around me. I was no longer 
 forced to hear their talk of happiness. After a time 
 o
 
 130 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 Auntie came again, and as she found me awake, she 
 pushed the bed curtains to one side and sat down by 
 me. 
 
 " Lena, what do you say to it? I should like to know; 
 for see, I have not gotten over my astonishment yet; I 
 did not suspect such a thing. I was sitting there quietly, 
 telling Lottchen something or other, and there stormed 
 the curly head into the room, and before I knew it, had 
 taken the child in his arms, and then it all came out that 
 they had loved each other for years, and had been 
 promised to one another for a long time. Lotta was 
 frightened, too, at first, for no one ever knew Robert to 
 be so impetuous." She gave a deep sigh, and continued: 
 " What will Charlotte's mother say?"
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 I could not sleep that night. Outside in the corridor, 
 it was long before it was still, and once I heard Joachim's 
 voice giving orders to have early in the morning at 6 
 o'clock two carriages in the park at the red beech. 
 
 At 6 o'clock! 
 
 I knew that the household would not be stirring much 
 before 8 o'clock. Would they then carry out their dread- 
 ful purpose, that would bring such misery to this house? 
 I sat up in bed and thought, and thought. It had now 
 become deathly still in the old house. I could hear 
 Auntie's quiet breathing in the next room. She had no 
 presentiment of the dark shadow that threatened to 
 darken her happiness. 
 
 Was it, then, not wrong of Robert, very wrong, that 
 he fettered Charlotte before the decision? or would he 
 for just once feel the joy of possession before he, possi- 
 bly forever 
 
 And there, in the villa, slept Charlotte. I fancied I 
 could see her smiling in her dreams, or was she awake, 
 also, possibly from anxiety over the judgment of her 
 mother on her choice? 
 
 " How will it be to-morrow at this time?" I asked 
 myself, and restlessly tossed myself about the bed; and 
 the gray dawn found me still sleepless, tortured with my 
 thoughts. 
 
 Then everything was clear to me. Why had I not 
 thought of it before? Gerhardt must be able to counsel; 
 
 (131)
 
 132 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 Gerhardt alone could help! I slipped, in my stocking 
 feet, to Auntie's bed. She had a little clock there, whose 
 rapid ticking I had heard all night; it was twenty min- 
 utes past 5. I looked a moment into the dear face on 
 the pillow; she was smiling in her sleep, her hands 
 folded peacefully on her breast; the glimmer from the 
 night-lamp threw a reddish sheen on the hymn-book 
 that lay open on the little table near the bed. 
 
 " Should I to my God not sing? 
 Should I to Him not thankful be?" 
 
 I read on the open page. How full of gratitude her 
 heart was last night. How she prayed for her children, 
 for her new daughter, and for a peaceful future, where 
 all strife and enmity were buried. 
 
 Quickly I slipped back into my room and threw myself 
 into my clothes, covered myself with a shawl, latched 
 softly my door, and hurriedly stole down the corridor. 
 The silence of early morning reigned everywhere; only 
 Lady, who lay on the mat before her ill-tempered mas- 
 ter's door, raised up her head and growled, then recog- 
 nized me and followed on behind. There was an uncom- 
 fortable twilight in the hallway and a perceptible cold 
 came through the high, open door of the vestibule. 
 Someone was already up, and I had not a moment to 
 lose if I 
 
 "Yes, what?" I asked myself, as I went with flying 
 steps through the park, and the wet and fog hung to 
 my garments. Gerhardt should know what I heard! 
 Gerhardt alone can help! That rang through my head 
 and heart, and my feet flew yet quicker over the wet, 
 fallen leaves. For a moment I stood still; I thought I 
 heard the crack of a whip and the roll of wagon wheels 
 from the depths of the park; then I went on in anxious 
 haste.
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 133 
 
 The villa lay before me, and the scarlet leaves of the 
 woodbine gleamed out sharply from the white columns 
 of the charming house. 
 
 At some of the windows the curtains were lowered, 
 but the double doors of the entrance to the vestibule 
 were wide open, and above, on the balcony, a housemaid 
 was brushing cushions and mats that were scattered 
 about in countless numbers in Frau von Demphoff's 
 room. Without being seen by her, I walked into the 
 vestibule and up the marble staircase. The covers lay 
 still at one side, and a servant in careless morning dress, 
 with frowzy hair, was busy wiping off the bronze trellis- 
 work. 
 
 " Can I speak with Herr von Demphoff?" I asked, 
 breathless, and the servant stared at me with open 
 mouth. 
 
 " No," was his answer, " the Herr is still asleep." 
 
 " How long will it be before he gets up? I am in great 
 haste; it is very necessary that I speak with him," I said. 
 
 " I believe the Herr is not quite well," replied the 
 man, openly showing his astonishment. 
 
 "I am very sorry; but in this case you must awaken 
 the gentleman." 
 
 Embarrassed, he scratched his ear and murmured 
 something about " ask " and " speak to Anna." 
 
 " For God's sake, do not delay, but awaken him at 
 once," I entreated. 
 
 But he had already vanished, and in the next moment 
 Anna appeared my first not exactly pleasant acquaint- 
 ance in Wendhusen out of Ferra's room, and looked 
 up at me from the foot of the stairs, anxious and won- 
 dering. 
 
 " What would the young lady like?" she said, in her 
 malicious tone.
 
 134 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 " I must speak with my cousin immediately; please 
 awaken him." 
 
 She shrugged her shoulders and pushed back the 
 fresh little morning cap from her forehead. 
 
 "I am extremely sorry," she said, flippantly; "but I 
 can not possibly awaken the gentleman; that doesn't 
 belong to my duties." 
 
 " Tell the servant to do so," I cried, trembling from 
 anxiety and anger, " do you hear? it is something very 
 important would I have come here at such an early 
 hour if it were not?" 
 
 " I have no commands to give to Joseph," she replied, 
 and stepped back into the open room, where she picked 
 up a dainty feather-duster, and applied herself with such 
 pretension to her work, that I plainly saw a stone would 
 soften sooner than I could make any impression upon 
 her. 
 
 "Joseph,"! cried, half aloud, but Joseph was again 
 brushing the stairs, and appeared not to hear me. 
 
 The blood seemed boiling in my veins; the next 
 moment I was before him. " Go awaken your master 
 immediately!" I cried, commandingly, stamping my foot. 
 " Go this moment!" 
 
 He looked at me surprised. 
 
 "Why, Cousin! do I see aright?" I heard Gerhardt's 
 voice behind me; I turned, still agitated by the obstinacy 
 of the man; my hands were clenched. 
 
 He looked at me surprised and anxious, but directly 
 came to me like a blow the remembrance of what brought 
 me there. He had evidently been long awake, for he 
 was in his accustomed gray morning attire, and had on 
 the high boots that he wore when he rode in the fields; 
 in his hand he held an open letter. 
 
 " I must speak with you quick before it is too late,"
 
 CLOIST^ WENDHUSEN. 135 
 
 I stammered, and needing support took his offered arm, 
 and went with him into his room. 
 
 " Drink first, Cousin," he begged, and handed me his 
 cup with strong fragrant tea, as he led me to a seat, but 
 I pushed his arm back. 
 
 " I thank you, Cousin, later you have no time 
 Robert Joachim " 
 
 I stopped in my rapid speech, for his face had become 
 ashen gray. 
 
 "What, Magdalena? speak more calmly. What is it 
 about Robert and Joachim?" 
 
 " They quarreled, and Joachim challenged him " 
 
 " Whom?" 
 
 " Robert." 
 
 He stood motionless, and looked at me as if he 
 doubted my words. 
 
 " They were to go away at 6 o'clock," I continued, 
 pointing to the marble clock on the mantel-piece. 
 
 " How did you know this, child?" 
 
 I related to him, with rapid words, how I had been 
 with Gottlieb in the kitchen; how I overheard the 
 quarrel and the challenge. I gave Joachim's exact words 
 and related how Lieut, von Reinsberg really came to 
 Robert. 
 
 Meanwhile Gerhardt had seized his hat, and put on 
 his overcoat; then he hurriedly sought about for some- 
 thing, the well-known gray scarf, and threw it about his 
 neck. 
 
 " Come, Magdalena; you have my earnest thanks; I 
 will speak with Joachim." 
 
 With quick steps we left the villa and hastened 
 through the park. Several times he looked at his watch, 
 and every time his face darkened. When we finally stood 
 before the door of the old cloister, the clock struck six;
 
 136 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 the sharp tones cut through the damp, cold, morning air. 
 
 We looked into each other's eyes. 
 
 " It is too late," I whispered. " O Gerhardt, Ger- 
 hardt, it is too late!" 
 
 "Do not be so anxious, Magdalena; go up-stairs; you 
 will be ill with so much agitation; go,dear; I will come 
 as soon as I can bring you any comforting word." 
 
 " Is my brother in his room?" he questioned of a serv- 
 ant who was coming toward us. 
 
 "Yes, Herr von Demphoff." 
 
 Gerhardt moved up the stairs. I followed him, and 
 saw him enter Joachim's room; but at the same moment 
 I saw him turn back and, without noticing me, he rushed 
 by me, and I heard him order his horse. I ran after him 
 and saw him vanish out of the door. My thought3 went 
 with him. Would he be in time? Could he prevent the 
 frightful affair if he were? Perhaps he would not be 
 able to find them. Heavens! it was useless for him to 
 go; who knew where they were? Then came Gottlieb 
 slowly up the stairs. 
 
 " Fraulein Lena, you have meant well, but " 
 
 " But, Gottlieb?" 
 
 "If you had gone to Herr Gerhardt von Demphoff 
 last evening " 
 
 I was silent; the thought never came to me in my 
 anxiety. 
 
 " Gottlieb, why did you not go to my cousin?" 
 
 " I? Ah, Fraulein, that is You do not understand 
 
 what it is when two gentlemen challenge each other; no 
 man dares to thrust his nose in between, at least an old, 
 half-discharged servant, that by accident had listened; 
 not even when he many a time has carried them in his 
 arms when they were children, as if they were his own, 
 and watched their every step. No, Fraulein, and if I
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 137 
 
 knew surely a great misfortune would come of it I 
 would not move a finger by no means. One could for- 
 give a young girl, if from pure anxiety she should con- 
 fide to her aunt what was not forbidden her. Yes, if it 
 were yesterday evening, possibly Herr Gerhardt might 
 have been.able to do something, but not this morning. 
 They were over the mountains before 6 o'clock, probably 
 to some quiet little spot in the Mill-valley. God grant 
 the best!" 
 
 He shook his gray head sorrowfully and stared 
 thoughtfully into space, and I stood near him, shivering 
 and trembling from cold and fear. 
 
 " There comes the Herr back again," he said, and I 
 looked over the balusters and saw Gerhardt just coming 
 up the stairs. 
 
 " I will not go," he said, briefly; "it would be quite 
 useless. Should I come up with them I could not hinder 
 it. The old, unholy hate," he murmured, and at this 
 moment he looked indescribably ill and broken. Invol- 
 untarily I laid my hand on his arm. I wanted to say 
 something comforting, but I could not find the right 
 word in my terrible anxiety. 
 
 "How white you are, poor little cousin!" He bent 
 down to me. " Come, Lena, will you not go to your 
 room?" 
 
 "No, no," I begged, "I should die with fear and 
 anxiety." 
 
 " But where will you stay till the end is known?" he 
 asked. Then he took me, like a child, by the hand: 
 " Have the carriage punctually at 8 o'clock for the gen- 
 tleman, Gottlieb," he said, "even though as if noth- 
 ing had happened. I shall not be here then, you under- 
 stand? And be sure to be prompt." 
 
 " It is best, dear, that you go quietly to your room; I
 
 138 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 entreat you to do so," he continued, as I looked up 
 pleadingly into his face. It seemed to me unbearable to 
 be alone. "Go to bed again; Aunt Edith would be 
 worried if she went to your room and found you gone." 
 
 I obeyed, and he stood motionless until I had reached 
 my door, then he turned and walked away. I went into 
 the room. Still in the morning twilight, I shook with a 
 nervous chill. I could seem to see grin out of each fold 
 of the curtains a white, ghostly face, from every corner. 
 I expected something horrid to appear every moment. 
 
 In my damp clothes I threw myself on the bed and 
 buried my head in the pillow. So I lay I do not know 
 how long outwardly quiet, but straining my ears to hear 
 I knew not what. Outside it was noisy; the gentlemen 
 set out for the hunt, shouting, and calling their dogs, 
 and then it was still again. 
 
 Aunt Edith was awake. I crept under the covers. 
 She must not see that I was entirely dressed; but she 
 did not come in. I heard how she softly talked to the 
 cats, and then with Jette; complained of herself, for 
 having overslept, and not having been up to see that her 
 son had his coffee. 
 
 No! Jette had not made any coffee; the new high- 
 forester must have breakfasted with the other gentlemen. 
 
 I sprang up and hastily took off my damp things, and 
 put on my morning dress as if I had just gotten up. 
 Hark! Eager talking and cries in the corridor; feet run- 
 ning along. 
 
 " Accident at the hunt!" called someone. " An accident 
 at the hunt!" was repeated before my door. My heart 
 stood still; an icy chill ran through my veins. 
 
 Aunt Edith, with a frightened cry, had already gone 
 out, and I followed her as soon as I could control 
 myself. There, below, at the entrance to the Abbess
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 139 
 
 House were many people; the servants of the estate and 
 others ran past me, all with faces expressing fear and 
 consternation. It was with difficulty that I pressed 
 through the crowd. 
 
 " He did it himself! The gun went off itself! Is he 
 dead? No, he is still alive no, he was killed on the 
 spot!" Such expressions struck my ears. 
 
 I can not describe that hour. I only know I found 
 myself in the room from which yesterday I had heard 
 Gerhardt's rebuking voice resound; that he and some 
 other gentlemen were speaking together in a low voice; 
 and that Aunt Edith went about attending to what had 
 to be done, with that calm bearing that a noble woman 
 in the hour of great calamity can force herself to assume. 
 
 With whom she was occupied I could not see. The 
 large room was divided in the middle by a heavy, green 
 velvet portiere. One half was lowered, which~~concealed 
 whoever was on the bed. 
 
 I did not dare to go in, nor even to ask which of the 
 two it was. The door flew open and Ferra burst into 
 the room. Her wild abandonment to grief was terri- 
 fying. 
 
 "Joachim! Is he dead? Joachim! I know he is. 
 Now I have lost the only one that loved me! Now I 
 have no one more in the world!" She screamed and 
 threw herself on the floor. As Gerhardt turned and 
 went to her, she was like a mad woman. 
 
 " Ferra, compose yourself," he commanded, trying to 
 raise the slender figure. " I am still with you. Have I 
 not loved you? Be calm; do not disturb him; possibly 
 it is his last hour." 
 
 " You?" she asked, sitting up and shaking back her 
 half-loosened hair that hung down on the white morn- 
 ing dress. " You? Not for a moment were you ever
 
 140 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 to me what Joachim is, and never can be. We have 
 never understood one another." And with her hands 
 before her face, she broke out into passionate, almost 
 screaming sobs. 
 
 He was about to reply to her, to quiet her, when he 
 involuntarily stepped back; I concealed myself, terri- 
 fied, in the folds of the curtain. Frau von Demphoff 
 had entered, the paleness of deep agitation on the 
 strong face. 
 
 At the same moment Aunt Edith came from behind 
 the portiere. She carried linen and bandages on her 
 arm, and was upon the point of going out. Both stopped 
 and stood motionless opposite one another. A painful 
 silence pervaded the room for a moment. Ferra's sobs 
 ceased, and she looked with anxious expectancy on the 
 sisters-in-law, who had been enemies for so many years. 
 
 " Poor Theresa!" 
 
 Aunt Edith went toward her with outstretched hands, 
 her voice melting with emotion and pity. Instead of 
 answering, Frau von Demphoff passed her, snatched 
 back the curtain, and, pointing to the waxen white face 
 on the pillow, she said so loud that the wounded man 
 visibly shrank: 
 
 " Do you think that with a few tears and smooth words 
 you can make that good again?" 
 
 Perplexed, Aunt Edith looked at the tall woman, 
 whose strange, glittering eyes looked deep into her own. 
 
 "I say to you, do not touch my child!" she continued, 
 her voice hoarse with pain and agony, " for I hate you. 
 You have taken from me everything in life that I clung 
 to, everything! And your son, that I loved like my own, 
 has to-day murdered my child!" 
 
 " Robert has done it?" shrieked Aunt Edith. " Robert! 
 Gerhardt, speak to me! Am I dreaming? Robert!
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 141 
 
 Theresa, I can not believe it; poor Theresa! Why should 
 he do it?" 
 
 The poor woman sank down at the feet of her sister- 
 in-law, and clung to the folds of her dress. 
 
 " I never wronged you knowingly; no, no. You are 
 mistaken." 
 
 Heartrending sounded the soft, persuasive voice 
 through the still room. 
 
 "See, Theresa," she continued, hastily, " you do not 
 know how Robert has loved you as his mother; 
 truly, truly as his mother! O, how often have I been 
 jealous of you; how often have I wept when he turned 
 to you! O, let the old hate be forgotten after these 
 many years. See see my hair has grown white since we 
 have seen each other; there lay hard, pitiless years 
 between; let it be enough! Give me your hand, Theresa, 
 it was not my Robert; O, no. How could you think so?" 
 
 " Mother, forbear," I heard Gerhardt say, softly; 
 "Joachim still lives. You will kill her with such words." 
 
 I could hear no more. As I closed the door I heard a 
 piercing shriek. 
 
 " Robert! Robert!" 
 
 It was Aunt Edith. 
 
 As if pursued, I flew down the corridor to our room. 
 Impetuously I burst into the room. It seemed to me if 
 I could not scream out I should die; but my mouth was 
 dumb. There, in the middle of the large room, stood 
 Charlotte, and before her lay Robert, his face buried in 
 his hands. 
 
 Bright sunshine streamed through the high windows, 
 and enveloped the slender girl's figure as with a halo. 
 Outside the woods were gorgeous with their autumn 
 tints; here, inside, all had become dark, sorrowful night. 
 
 "Do not touch me!" cried Charlotte, in a shrill,
 
 142 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 strained voice, and shrinking back as Robert caught at 
 her dress. " Go, go; I can I dare not look at you!" 
 
 He sprang up, and walked tottering to the door; 
 once more he turned to her, unspeakable suffering in 
 his eyes. "Charlotte!" sounded imploringly in the room. 
 
 "Go! " she repeated, with a hopeless, despairing tone. 
 The door closed, and Charlotte sank to the floor. The 
 next moment I was beside her. 
 
 " Charlotte, what have you done? " I cried, flinging 
 my arms about her. "Call him back; do not let him 
 leave you so; say one kind word to him at least." 
 
 But she pushed me roughly back, and rose to her feet. 
 
 " He will die Joachim and I am his sister!" The 
 last words rang out like a hoarse cry of pain. <( His 
 sister!" she murmured again, putting her hands before 
 her white, convulsed face. 
 
 And when it was evening, a solemn stillness reigned 
 in the rooms of the old cloister Joachim was dead.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 The funeral was over; the perfume from the flowers 
 and orange trees that stood around the coffin floated 
 through the open windows, and one carriage after 
 another drove away with its black-robed occupants. 
 They were mostly the neighbors of surrounding estates, 
 but many were the comrades of the deceased, who showed, 
 however, very little interest in the sad event. Aunt Edith 
 sat in her chair at the writing-desk, as tearless and 
 benumbed as in her unhappiest days. She and Char- 
 lotte had not seen each other. Gerhardt often came 
 to us in this dreadful time, but Aunt scarcely gave any 
 answer to his questions of kindly interest. She touched 
 neither food nor drink; it was a lamentable condition. 
 
 I knew that the ladies in the villa had been present at 
 the funeral services, but I had remained with Aunt Edith. 
 Now a great longing possessed me to see Charlotte, and 
 there Auntie sat with closed eyes, and in spite of all my 
 attempts, I could only win a glance from her. So I stole 
 softly out of the room; possibly I could speak a few 
 words with Charlotte; I had not seen her since that night. 
 
 As I went down the corridor, on my way to the Abbess 
 House, I met Ferra leading her little son by the hand. 
 She was in deep mourning a black lace veil was 
 thrown over the beautiful hair that gleamed like gold 
 through the dark meshes. It was the first time I had 
 ever seen mother and son together. The charming boy 
 with the fair, curly head tripped gracefully by her side, 
 
 (143)
 
 144 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 in his white dress and broad, black sash. On his arm 
 he carried a wreath of late roses that hung their pale 
 gold chalices, rich with fragrance. 
 
 I went to Ferra and asked after Charlotte. She raised 
 her head and looked at me; not the least trace of a tear 
 had reddened the beautiful eyes. There was on her face 
 an expression which contrasted sharply with her passion- 
 ate bearing the day of Joachim's death. She seemed 
 entirely consoled. " Charlotte is in the library, or in the 
 white salon" she answered. " It would be more sensible 
 if she would control herself a little more. It has not been 
 possible to speak a single word with her. She will not 
 accompany me to the grave. Try what you can do 
 with her. Come, my sweet darling, we will carry Uncle 
 Joachim some flowers;" she nodded to me, and went 
 on. 
 
 "We will go to Uncle Joachim," shouted the little 
 one. I went on down the stairs and opened the high 
 bronze door into the room where Joachim died. For 
 the first time I noticed to-day the arrangement of the 
 room. It was the depth of the old Abbess House, 
 divided through the center by green velvet portieres. 
 The front room was the library; around the walls 
 were shelves of carved oak filled with countless vol- 
 umes. The other room was a comfortable, even elegant, 
 gentleman's room, the furniture of which was in the style 
 of the beginning of this century, with bronze decora- 
 tions, inlaid corners, and powerful lion's claws that 
 appeared defiantly to resist the soft, green carpet. 
 
 Over the large writing-desk hung the portrait of a 
 lady; it showed the strong features of Aunt Theresa, 
 not softened, though the bloom of youth lay upon the 
 regular face; delicate white skin tinted like the apple 
 blossom; glossy brown hair around the pure, oval face;
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 145 
 
 but the eyes cold and gray, and the lips firmly pressed 
 together, as they are to-day. I looked around for Char- 
 lotte, but could not find her. The folding-doors into the 
 next room stood open; I went in; it was a large salon, 
 the room in which the body had lain. Flowers were 
 still scattered over the floor, and many candles flamed 
 out from groups of palms and evergreens, in the middle 
 of which had stood the coffin. From the ceiling hung a 
 chandelier; here also burned candles, which flickered their 
 pale-yellow light up to the ceiling, richly ornamented in 
 stucco. The white walls were a marvel of the artist's 
 skill; dancing nymphs, mermaids, and bacchantes in 
 gauzy drapery, emerged from luxuriant foliage and deli- 
 cate arabesques, almost too worldly for the salon of a 
 very pious, right- reverend Abbess. 
 
 In the alcove of the window stood, as immovable as a 
 statue, a slender, black figure, her forehead pressed 
 against the pane Charlotte. I walked lightly over to 
 her and put my arm around her. As I met her gaze I 
 started what had three short days made of the fresh, 
 beautiful girl's face! She looked ten years older; her com- 
 plexion was waxen, her lips were pale, and her eyes 
 lustreless. She sat down on one of the upholstered 
 divans which stood in the window niche, drew me down 
 beside her, and held my hand in her own. 
 
 "Mamma is with Gerhardt in there," she said, softly, 
 pointing to a door slightly ajar, " helping to put in order 
 Joachim's affairs. There have come such a quantity of 
 letters it is frightful; there he lies cold and white, and 
 
 the survivors must know all that " She was silent, as if 
 
 she already had said too much. 
 
 " Leave those, mamma," we heard Gerhardt's deep 
 voice. " Do not search into those things; it is best not; 
 leave them for me alone to care for." 
 10
 
 146 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 "No," she declared, firmly; "I will see how far he 
 had gone with " 
 
 "Mother," his voice sounded very tender, "that is for- 
 given and forgotten; let us now think of the good qual- 
 ities that belonged to him his fresh, buoyant nature, 
 his adoration for his mother " 
 
 "I will not," she replied, "without reading his words 
 that you are so apprehensive of on his account. What his 
 profligacy has left to me of my own fortune is at your 
 command. Give me the letters." 
 
 "I thank you," answered Gerhardt, "but it would 
 involve too large an amount of your income; it is more 
 than you think." 
 
 During several minutes only the rattling of papers 
 disturbed the silence; then a short, sharp "What is that?" 
 and the same instant, a commanding " Give me back the 
 letter; I will have proof! draft with forged " 
 
 The voice broke with the last few words; a long pause 
 ensued. 
 
 " Does anyone know, Gerhardt, does anyone know of 
 this?" she asked, in a lifeless tone. 
 
 " No one, dear mother. The same morning that I 
 received that anonymous letter you know it is against 
 my principles to pay any attention to anonymous 
 accusations, but in this were particulars which unfortu- 
 nately gave me no doubt of the truth of the informa- 
 tion I took Joachim in here and but let us leave that, 
 mother; the draft is already in my hands." 
 
 " Do you know, Gerhardt," she cried out, bitterly, " do 
 you know I thank God on my knees that He has taken 
 him? and yet no mother is so wretched as I. Almighty 
 God, I thank Thee that Thou hast not permitted the 
 disgrace to be known. And that was my son, whom I 
 loved and cared for, and whom I was so proud of! I
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 147 
 
 was nearly wild with grief when " The words died 
 
 away in moaning sobs. 
 
 " He was young, mother, spoiled; he was unlucky it 
 came so easy that " 
 
 " Never!" she cried, in loud and grief-stricken tones. 
 " How dare.a man forget what he owed to himself and 
 to the honorable name of his parents? He became a 
 knave, the first in the long rank of his ancestors; he 
 has brought shame on all; he O, you can not think, 
 Gerhardt," she continued, low and rapidly, " what anxiety 
 I have had about him. Do you think I have passed a 
 peaceful night for years, because of the worry how to 
 satisfy his demands? Do you think I have a stone left 
 in my jewel-casket?" She laughed aloud. " Not one! 
 And yet, and yet what was the cause of the duel?" she 
 asked, after a pause. Gerhardt was silent a moment. 
 
 " Joachim had accused Robert of being the writer of 
 the anonymous letter," he said, finally; " Robert denied 
 the gross accusation, and gave his word of honor that he 
 was not the writer, whereupon Joachim shrugged his 
 shoulders; what followed was the natural result. Robert 
 called him a pitiful knave!" 
 
 "And Joachim challenged him?" interrupted his 
 mother. 
 
 " Yes. After he came to his better self, Robert tried, 
 quite against his principles, to settle the matter amicably, 
 but in vain. Unfortunately, I did not know of the affair 
 until too late to interfere, otherwise I should have sought 
 to hinder the duel by every means in my power. At the 
 place of meeting, Robert, as well as the seconds, made 
 every effort to bring about an amicable arrangement, but 
 Joachim's conditions were such that there was no choice 
 left to Robert. With the words, ' Very well, I did all 
 that was possible,' Robert agreed, and in the first shot
 
 148 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 was slightly wounded in the arm by Joachim, while he 
 evidently fired over his adversary's head. The second 
 shot, Joachim, embittered by Robert's forbearance, fired 
 without waiting for the word of command, but also 
 without hitting Robert, who very quietly raised his 
 weapon with the view simply to maim his dangerous 
 antagonist and make him harmless. Robert is a fine 
 pistol shot, but at the instant of the discharge Joachim 
 stepped to one side and sank, fatally wounded, to the 
 ground." 
 
 " God took him at the right time," said the woman's 
 voice, cold and almost cruel. " I wish to know now 
 how much I have to give to secure him, at least before 
 the world, an irreproachable memory. What I possess, 
 Gerhardt, is at your disposal. We will economize, Ferra, 
 Charlotte, and I. This evening I shall expect your account." 
 
 At this moment she suddenly appeared at the salon 
 door, erect and proud. She did not see us; her eyes were 
 fixed on the spot where the coffin had stood; then she 
 came over and put out the candles, one by one, while a 
 bitter smile played around her mouth. 
 
 "Laurel," she said, ironically, " there is nothing true in 
 life; it is all a lie." 
 
 In alarm, I concealed myself behind the curtain, 
 while Charlotte remained motionless; only her eyes fol- 
 lowed her mother's movements. On a chair lay the 
 helmet and sabre of the deceased. The black-robed 
 figure looked with gloomy brow on the emblems of honor 
 that had lain upon the coffin of the officer; then suddenly 
 the tall figure reeled; she sank on her knees before the 
 chair and laid her arms around the shining helmet; very 
 lovingly she caressed with her cheek the cold steel, and 
 the bitterest weeping sounded through the still room. 
 He was doubly dead to her.
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 149 
 
 Charlotte drew me softly and hastily away. 
 
 "She must not know that you have seen her, Lena." 
 
 "Will you not come to Aunt Edith?" I said, timidly. 
 
 "When I feel strong enough; do not urge me," she 
 replied, and began to descend the stairs. 
 
 " Are you going to the cloister garden?" I asked. She 
 nodded, and so we silently walked through its still paths. 
 But ah, what a change since we were there last! 
 
 Then suddenly Charlotte stood still and steadied her- 
 self against a shrub almost stripped of its foliage by 
 the autumn frosts; from the other side of the wall a fresh, 
 boyish voice was singing: 
 
 "There flew away a falcon 
 
 High above me in the blue; 
 Falcon, seest thou my lover? 
 Say to him I will be true. 
 
 " Where oaks and beeches tower, 
 
 There scents wild roses' breath ; 
 But should I lose my lover, 
 
 I should grieve myself to death." 
 
 The tears for the first time gushed from her eyes. 
 " Come!" she said, ' I will go to Aunt Edith."
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Weeks passed, and November made Its entrance with a 
 beautiful snow-storm, and the great flakes whirled mer- 
 rily around the high old trees in the park. Through the 
 naked branches one could see glimmer the white walls of 
 the villa; and behind it raised themselves, like an unchange- 
 able gray background, the mountains. One might have 
 thought them to-day a black tempest brewing behind the 
 house. 
 
 It was very gloomy in the old cloister. Aunt Edith 
 remained benumbed with grief; no fond words, no 
 caresses, could rouse her from her apathy. I clung to 
 her, as did her old Minka, who really seemed to be 
 unhappy; but at this time no creature had power to touch 
 her poor, sick heart. She would stroke my hair, but in 
 an indifferent way. True, she took up her knitting again. 
 But she visited neither her poor nor her sick, for fear 
 of seeing a stranger; and so it came about that I went, 
 through wind and storm, through the dirty town, into 
 the huts of the poor, and gradually accustomed myself 
 to intercourse with them. 
 
 Gottlieb was my faithfuj companion, and protected 
 me from any insolence. It was long, however, before I 
 learned to judge how much to help, and when help was 
 needed. 
 
 Except to go to church, Aunt Edith never went out. 
 
 " God has forgotten me," she said, gloomily, and 
 stroked back with her hand her white hair. That was a 
 
 (150)
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 151 
 
 sad, sad time; and how often I took refuge in my room, 
 and wept from worry and heartache! 
 
 From Gottlieb, after many days, I first learned what 
 had happened to Robert; and a terror filled me when he 
 told me Robert was serving sentence in the jail. 
 
 "O, how unjust, Gottlieb!"! cried. "He could not 
 help what happened; he did not intend to do it." 
 
 "No, that is true; but that made no difference," 
 replied the old man. " That evening after Herr Joachim 
 died, Herr Berka drove to town with Herr von Demphoff, 
 
 and gave himself up, and But I do not know how 
 
 it happened; Herr Berka received six months' imprison- 
 ment." 
 
 " And he must be in a cold, dark dungeon, without 
 light, and only bread and water!" I cried, terrified. 
 
 "It is not so bad as that, little one," said Gottlieb, 
 soothingly. " He has a warm room, and can walk when 
 he will, and eat what he wishes. Thank God, he is not 
 in the penitentiary." 
 
 " Do Aunt Edith and Charlotte know?" 
 
 " Frau Berka knows, and Fraulein Charlotte, I think, 
 also. But they never speak of it." 
 
 Poor Charlotte! She came every day at a certain hour 
 through the park. I would watch at the window with 
 impatience until I saw her slender, black figure appear 
 around the bend in the road. She walked as though she 
 were worn out; and every time I saw her it seemed as if 
 the delicate face became smaller and more transparent. 
 And she would come in and sit herself at Auntie's feet, 
 and talk of indifferent things; and at the same time the 
 most passionate pain quivered about the pale lips. 
 
 Gerhardt was deeply troubled over the sad change. 
 He divided his time between business and his sister. 
 Often his light wagon was before the gate to take us for a
 
 152 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 drive; he was very careful to avoid the road on which 
 was a sign-post, " To Folkerode 4 miles," for, though 
 he did not know, he felt that Charlotte's deep mourning 
 was worn more for a sweet, dead happiness than for her 
 brother. And it was touching to see the large, stately 
 man in his never-wearying attention to the pale, beauti- 
 ful girl and the grief-stricken woman in the old 
 cloister. 
 
 "I thank you, Cousin," he said to me, one day; "you 
 are so kind to and thoughtful for Charlotte; you do not 
 know what a comfort it is to me to know that." 
 
 " O, but I can do nothing," I said, regretfully. 
 
 " You do much. Do you think I have no eyes for 
 your little services? How you bring her a flower, and tell 
 her little reminiscences of your home; anticipate Aunt's 
 every wish, and prepare for her, in the kitchen, some 
 special dainty?" 
 
 " O, that is all quite natural," said I, blushing at the 
 warmth of his words. 
 
 " Very true, little Cousin, but it pleases me." 
 
 Ferra came once to the " unfortunate," as she herself 
 expressed it, to say some words of sympathy. She 
 seemed to be playing a new role; she was excessively 
 subdued, and an excessively fond mother. Formerly 
 she used to complain of her limited means, and the little 
 she could do for her boy; but now she talked with real 
 enthusiasm as she related how the little rogue wanted a 
 horse and cow, and she was sure he was made for a 
 farmer. And when, one day, Gerhardt took him on his 
 lap and asked, "What will the boy be?" the child's 
 laughing face became earnest, and he said, most solemnly, 
 " Like Uncle Gerhardt." Ferra laughed unnecessarily 
 loud, but whether from embarrassment or joy at this 
 answer, it was hard to decide. Gerhardt, however, sat
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 153 
 
 the child down on the floor, and a strange smile played 
 over his features. 
 
 It was a snowy November day when she made her first 
 visit to the old cloister. 
 
 Charlotte sat at Aunt Edith's feet, and Gerhardt had 
 been trying to interest her in some Christmas prepara- 
 tions he had in contemplation. 
 
 " No, no," she said, turning away abruptly, " do not ask 
 me, Gerhardt; I wish to see no light and joy. Lena 
 will help you." 
 
 I had placed two chairs in the middle of the room, 
 put over them a skein of yarn, and, child-fashion, was 
 winding it into a ball by walking around in a circle. 
 
 " I will help you, Cousin," said Gerhardt; and the 
 next moment he sat before me with the yarn on his out- 
 spread hands. He laughed over it; and into Charlotte's 
 pale face came a friendly brightness, while I stood before 
 him, trying bravely to do good work, and wind my ball 
 loosely. It was certainly a nicer way to wind it, but he 
 was unskillful and let some strands slip off his hands, 
 and that made a snarl. " Now possess yourself in patience, 
 Cousin," I said, and bent over the yarn; the ball had to 
 be put through times without number and still the thread 
 remained tied. " With patience and time the mulberry 
 leaf will be a satin dress," said Cousin Gerhardt, jokingly, 
 as he saw I was getting nervous. He sat there so com- 
 fortable that I felt the blood rushing to my head. 
 " Christiana says patience is a noble plant, but does not 
 grow in all gardens," I said, pulling impatiently on the 
 yarn. 
 
 " Then it must be planted," remarked Gerhardt, calmly. 
 " Not so strong, or you will break the thread." 
 
 I bent down lower, half ashamed, else I should have 
 heard Ferra enter; I saw her first, when she stood close
 
 154 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 by Gerhardt, and her eyes flew in surprise and annoy- 
 ance from him to me. 
 
 "That is very comfortable and charming," she said, 
 with a drawl, " an idyll d, la Voss. Mamma is waiting, 
 however, impatiently for you to write a letter to her 
 attorney and you " 
 
 " Have already done so," he completed, " and mother 
 has sent it to the post long since." 
 
 She turned her back to him, angrily, and addressed 
 herself to Aunt Edith. 
 
 " Dear Aunt, I have not spoken with you since that 
 unhappy day," she began, and laid a moment her slender, 
 white hand on the old lady's arm, who was knitting 
 zealously. She stopped, and looked questioningly at 
 the beautiful woman. " You must not grieve so bitterly, 
 dear Aunt," she continued. " Of course, it is very sad ; 
 we all are still quite unnerved by the blow, and Robert 
 especially." Aunt Edith had quietly laid down her 
 knitting, and stood up. 
 
 " I know already, child, I know already what you 
 would say, but spare me, I can not speak of it." And 
 she went to her room and locked the door. 
 
 " Heavens! Aunt acts exactly as if her son lay over 
 there, too," murmured Ferra, irritably. " It is horrible 
 in Wendhusen these days, to put it mildly. No one 
 speaks a sensible word. Mamma is stiller and colder 
 than it is perfectly senseless to act so, as if the Lord 
 had taken from us everything, everything with Joachim." 
 
 During this speech I wound the last of the yarn from 
 Gerhardt's hands, and said to him, pleasantly, " Thank 
 you ever so much." 
 
 " By the way, Gerhardt, I am glad I met you," said 
 Ferra, rushing up to him and clasping her hands over 
 his arm. " Anna said to me to-day you had notified her.
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 155 
 
 I had to laugh aloud, but the silly thing sits and weeps, 
 and protests that Herr Gerhardt had said to her she was 
 to be discharged at the end of the quarter. Isn't that a 
 ridiculous misunderstanding?" 
 
 " Not at all, Ferra," he replied, calmly. " You found it 
 necessary to engage a governess for your little one with- 
 out consulting me the nurse did not please you not- 
 withstanding the fact that you must have noticed that 
 mamma had begun to practice strict economy in her 
 household; and you are not in ignorance for what reason 
 she is forced to do so. Charlotte has never had a maid for 
 herself alone. Your governess, although her abilities to 
 teach must lie completely useless here for the boy is 
 still too small draws a salary that, with the sinfully high 
 wages this Anna receives, counts up a large sum. More- 
 over, setting aside all that, Anna must leave my house, 
 because I will have only pleasant and obliging people in 
 my service." 
 
 "Gerhardt!" cried out Ferra, and her eyes flashed 
 ominously upon him; "do you not know that this person 
 is indispensable to me? She knows me, and my nervous 
 condition; I can not do without her." 
 
 " I regret it, Ferra, but I can not retract what I have 
 said." 
 
 "What offense has she committed? To whom has 
 she been disagreeable? I will reprimand her." 
 
 "To what purpose? She can not remain, Ferra." 
 
 " I will not let her go!" 
 
 Ferra's eyes were full of tears, and she stamped her 
 foot angrily on the floor. Gerhardt rose and took his 
 gray hat from the table. 
 
 "Gerhardt, I will give up the governess." The tears 
 were now running down her cheeks. 
 
 " That is not necessary, Ferra. My reasons are well
 
 156 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 founded. In justice, she should have been discharged 
 nearly four weeks ago, but at that time I forgot her 
 offense in the sad days that followed. Pray say no 
 more; it will do no good." He said this in a kind but 
 very decided'way, and, after a few pleasant words to me, 
 he left the room. 
 
 " O, it is maddening!" cried Ferra. Then, after a 
 moment's silence, "her glance rested full on me, and 
 a long-drawn-out " Ah!" passed her lips. 
 
 She tapped her forehead with her finger. " Heavens' 
 what a fool I was!" she cried, walked two or three times 
 up and down the room, and then, stopping in front of 
 Charlotte and me, said, with the most melting accents: 
 
 " Gerhardt is suffering; I should not have contradicted 
 him; one forgets it again and again, when one sees him 
 apparently so large and strong. Only yesterday Doctor 
 Weber said his lungs were in a very bad condition. 
 Anna may go, if he insists. Poor Gerhardt, how irri- 
 tated he was!" 
 
 " If he heard you now he might possibly be irritated, 
 Ferra," remarked Charlotte. " I thought him very calm; 
 you were the one who was irritated." 
 
 " True, I was hasty," said Ferra, and bent her beauti- 
 ful head. " I will try and compensate for it, and will 
 gladly give up my intended journey to B . No one 
 knows how long we shall have him with us. Joachim's 
 death has cruelly affected him." 
 
 " You can take your journey with perfect safety; you 
 will find him well and sound when you return. I do not 
 deny that at present he is not in his best condition." 
 
 "And you can say that, Charlotte!" exclaimed Ferra. 
 ." I think we have seen how it goes. Who could have 
 believed that poor Joachim " 
 
 She put her handkerchief to her eyes, and was
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 157 
 
 silent. Charlotte did not reply. She hugged Minka up 
 to her and stroked her, and as she saw the creature still 
 wore the red ribbon around its neck, she took the shears 
 and cut it off and threw it into the fire; then she called 
 the others and took off their ornaments that she had 
 put on so full of laughter and happiness. When she 
 had finished, she stood by the fire and looked thought- 
 fully into the red glow; then she said: 
 
 " Lena, we will help Gerhardt with his Christmas prep- 
 arations, will we not?" 
 
 " Are you not going home?" Ferra asked, looking at 
 me. She sat now in the big easy-chair by the fire. I 
 looked at her in bewilderment, and her eyes rested on 
 my face with a peculiar expression. 
 
 " I have no home," I answered, in a low voice, and 
 my eyes filled with tears. The Christmas before the 
 dear mother had arranged and lighted the tree. 
 
 " But the pretty little boy there, how rejoiced he would 
 be!" she remarked. 
 
 " He is with strangers at a pension, and Cousin Ger- 
 hardt " 
 
 "But your guardian?" 
 
 " He has no wife; and his housekeeper is so angry 
 when he has visitors. No, that could not be; but 
 Cousin Gerhardt has promised me that George may 
 come here " 
 
 " So you have wound him about your finger, I see, 
 you little flatterer!" 
 
 She bent down to me, and ran her fingers in my 
 hair. 
 
 "Curls, child, are exceedingly unbecoming to you; 
 why do you not put your hair in a net, or in braids?' 
 look, so!" 
 
 And with a firm hand she gathered my hair together,
 
 158 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 and braided it with a remarkably deft hand, and fastened 
 the two thick but very short braids on the back of my 
 head. 
 
 "There, that is at least orderly," she said, praising 
 her work. " Do you know how you looked, little one, 
 when you first came with the tangled curls? Like a 
 roving gypsy girl. I must say I was ashamed of you. 
 This is better, much better." 
 
 I ran to the glass, and shrank back. She had drawn 
 straight back from my forehead the little curls that nat- 
 urally framed my face. Something ugly and strange 
 was looking at me. 
 
 " O, fie!" I exclaimed, disgusted; but I did not dare 
 change anything, for that I had been running around 
 looking like a roving gypsy girl made me blush with 
 shame. 
 
 "What do you mean by fie? I find, unfortunately, 
 that they do not trouble themselves enough about you 
 in such matters," declared Ferra. " I think, also, you are 
 too old to be running about with such short dresses;" one 
 can see from your feet to your ankles. Shocking! If 
 
 you at least had elegant boots, but To-morrow I 
 
 will lengthen your dress." 
 
 " That is not necessary, Ferra," Charlotte broke in, 
 and a sarcastic smile played around her pale lips. " I 
 am expecting a package every day from my shoemaker, 
 and in it will be something for Lena. Let the dress, 
 please, remain as it is; her two new winter dresses I have 
 expressly ordered to be made as short as that. You see, 
 she is cared for." 
 
 For a moment, Ferra stood literally with open mouth. 
 " Who is so astonishingly liberal?" she asked. 
 
 "What a question, Ferra! Who but Gerhardt? You 
 know "
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 159 
 
 " Ah, that accounts for the reduction of expenses." 
 
 " But, Ferra," cried Charlotte, indignantly, " I think 
 that is fully understood. Gerhardt pledged himself to 
 take care of Lena and her brother. Pray do not act as 
 if you knew nothing of it." 
 
 " It certainly is news to me. Heavens! how many 
 more has Wendhusen got to harbor and support?" 
 
 These words were like sharp knives through my heart. 
 Never in my whole life had anyone said so candidly that 
 I was a superfluous, useless thing, which only existed 
 through favor. I had been so contented with Aunt 
 Edith until now that every evening of my life I had 
 folded my hands and thanked God for all the love and 
 kindness that had been lavished on the waif. To-day 
 this moment for the first time I remembered the words 
 Christiana had said to George: " Only out of favor and 
 pity." 
 
 Charlotte looked indignantly at her sister. But 
 whether she did not wish to call out any further expres- 
 sion or was too tired, at all events she was silent. But 
 the hot blood rushed rebellious through my head. 
 
 " I did not come here willingly!" I blurted out. "I 
 had ten times rather have stayed in B and taken a 
 place and been near George. But I was not allowed to 
 do that. I was brought here. I also know why; so it 
 could not be said a Fraulein von Demphoff was a nurse 
 or companion. O, if I could, I would go away to-day, 
 and never come back!" 
 
 "For heaven's sake, what a temper!" cried Ferra. 
 " Do you not remember, Lottchen, that I called your 
 attention, the first evening, to that obstinate face? Bah! 
 my child, control yourself. It does not affect me, and 
 certainly does you no good to run on so. I think you 
 remain here very willingly."
 
 160 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 "Yes, because I can not leave Aunt Edith alone now,' 5 
 I retorted. 
 
 Then suddenly the thought of going away came before 
 me as something not to be endured. 
 
 " Now, do you see?" said Ferra, lightly, " always ready 
 to fly up at the least word. Every one is not so privi- 
 leged as you. I must submit with all possible amiabil- 
 ity and gentleness, and discharge a person who is almost 
 indispensable to me. I will give you some well-meant 
 advice. Try not to be so sensitive. It is not becoming 
 in you, under the circumstances." 
 
 She stood before the glass as she spoke, and threw her 
 black lace veil again over her head, and the young, fresh 
 face looked very charming from under it. Then she 
 buttoned up her dark, fur-trimmed, velvet jacket, picked 
 up her long train, and, pointing out to the snow-storm, she 
 asked, somewhat more amiably: 
 
 "Isn't that fine? But I had to go out before I 
 announced to Anna her discharge. What do you think, 
 Lotta? I am going to get her a situation in the village. 
 Then Gerhardt is helped as well as I, and she can still 
 have charge of my wardrobe." 
 
 " O, Ferra, it is quite indifferent to me," said Lotta, 
 wearily. 
 
 "Adieu, adieu!" called the beautiful woman, and mur- 
 mured, as she went out, something about " insufferable 
 weeping willows." 
 
 I had meanwhile formed a resolution; and as Aunt 
 Edith came back into the room and sat with Charlotte 
 before the fire, I went into my room and wrote a long 
 letter to Christiana, and when it was finished I carried it 
 to Gottlieb to post. 
 
 Some days later I received an important package, and 
 now every night I sat at the little table before my bed
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 161 
 
 and drew the thread through my work until the clock 
 struck midnight. The beechwood in the Dutch tiled 
 stove snapped and crackled, and filled the large room 
 with comfortable warmth, while outside the snow lay 
 over path and field, and the north wind swept down from 
 the mountains and blew whistling and cold against the 
 window, as if to see who in the old cloister was sitting up so 
 late, and what she was doing by lamplight. Sometimes 
 a fear would possess me, when the thought would come 
 that I was the only one awake in the great, ghostly house, 
 and I would look around timidly, thinking one of the 
 bronze carved doors would open, and a slender figure in 
 black garments, with a veil over her head and a wreath 
 of roses, would glide over the parquet and look at me 
 with surprised and ghostly eyes. Sometimes I would 
 think of Joachim, and believe I could hear his angry 
 voice outside, and when a screech-owl fluttered against 
 the window with its shrill cry, I threw away my work and 
 buried my head in the pillow on the bed, scolding 
 myself, and ye-t trembling with unutterable fear. 
 
 However, the next night I was at my work, and 
 secretly the packages passed to and fro between Chris- 
 tiana and me, and as the Christmas festivities approached, 
 I held, one evening, twelve bright thalers in my hand, 
 and this small sum gave me a joy that no amount of 
 gold in later life was able to give. Charlotte came every 
 day in this sad Christmas time, no matter what the wind 
 or weather was, and, after a walk or drive, she would 
 come and cut the material that Gerhardt so liberally sup- 
 plied us with, and we would make it into garments, small 
 and large. She did all this very faithfully and conscien- 
 tiously. She would sit for hours bending over her work 
 with a still patience that contrasted painfully with her 
 once buoyant, active temperament. Three or four times 
 11
 
 162 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 I would have to speak to her, sometimes, before I could 
 get her attention, when I wished some directions about 
 the work, and when she would raise her eyes she would 
 look at me in a dazed sort of way, as if she were trying 
 to collect herself, and imperceptibly the beautiful fea- 
 tures sharpened and the slender figure drooped under its 
 weight of sorrow. She did not complain; she did not 
 weep; but her every movement, her every glance, her 
 languid laugh, said more than words. 
 
 I saw all this with ever-increasing anxiety. I saw 
 Gerhardt's look of apprehension when she would lean 
 upon his arm, showing her failing strength, and his 
 troubled shake of the head when he would sympathet- 
 ically ask her if she felt ill, and she would answer list- 
 lessly, " No, thank you, dear." Yes, I knew how she was 
 suffering, and was powerless to help. I dared not even 
 allude to it, for the day Joachim died she had requested 
 me to keep silent. She did not wish the relationship 
 which had existed between herself and Robert to be 
 known. 
 
 At last Aunt Edith became observant, and from the 
 instant she recognized how frightfully changed her favor- 
 ite was, it seemed to put new life into her. 
 
 She began to talk with us once more. She sewed with 
 us, and questioned Charlotte more than was necessary 
 in order to divert her thoughts by making her talk. 
 And Charlotte answered, because she was so glad to see 
 Aunt Edith show again interest and sympathy in her 
 surroundings. And so, because of their great love, they 
 encouraged one another to hide their pain deep in their 
 breast. 
 
 It was touching to see how the young, wounded crea- 
 ture, whose flowers of hope were ruthlessly crushed in a 
 moment, without warning, would cling to the old
 
 CLOISTER WKNDHUSEN. 163 
 
 woman; how lovingly she would kiss the slender hands 
 and smile at her in such a way it would force the tears 
 from Aunt Edith's eyes. They forgot themselves in 
 each other. Both thought of a lonely, snow-covered 
 huntsman's house in the deep forest, and then of the 
 dark, narrow fortress; of the home so recently earned 
 and now deserted, and the lost, unspeakably dear, happi- 
 ness. 
 
 At such moments Charlotte would press her hands 
 against her breast, and her eyes, so large and dark, 
 would look into space with an expression of pain and 
 intensity as if she could see, through the walls into the 
 far distance, the solitary, unhappy man, how he wandered 
 about, restless and rebellious against his bitter fate. 
 
 " He is thinking of us," she would say sometimes, 
 half aloud; " I can feel it, I know it, Auntie." 
 
 She was right; where else would his thoughts flee but 
 to them? 
 
 Yes, he thought of them.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 One day, Charlotte came over later than usual. Aunt 
 Demphoff had been on a journey, and had only just 
 returned a few hours before. Charlotte seemed much 
 disturbed, and there were two red spots on her cheeks. 
 
 " Gerhardt goes directly after Christmas to the South, 
 by the physician's orders," she said, after a little while 
 of deep silence, while she hastily felt around in the large 
 work-basket, without taking out any piece. " I am to go 
 with him. O, my God! I can not go away from here;" 
 and she broke into sobs, and cowered down at Auntie's 
 feet. 
 
 " There, there, my darling; go with him. You are 
 young; it will help you to go out into the world, the 
 beautiful, splendid world." 
 
 " No, I can not, Aunt Edith!" she almost screamed. 
 " Do you think that I forget for one moment that I have 
 lost Robert? Do you not believe that everything of 
 beauty that I see only doubly reminds me that there is 
 no more happiness for me on earth? Ah, if I had died 
 long, long ago! Now I must live, one day after another, 
 always to always to without " 
 
 The disjointed words died on her lips. 
 
 It was the first passionate complaint I had heard from 
 her lips. The old lady seized Charlotte's hands, but she 
 did not look down at her. Her lips were pressed closely 
 together, and an unutterably bitter expression lay on the 
 fine face. 
 
 (164)
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 165 
 
 "If I could help you, poor child, I would give my 
 heart's blood," she murmured, finally. " I would live 
 over again the long years of pain, if I could by doing so 
 spare you." 
 
 " Yes, you are right, life is a pain, when I know how 
 unspeakably beautiful it can be; but this pain, Auntie, I 
 can not endure it much longer; I believe an end must 
 come soon." 
 
 The old lady laughed ironically. 
 
 " It is not so easy to die, my child. Yes, that would be 
 a blessing, but the dear God, Whom they call the Just, has 
 not been so good to me. Look at me; for twenty-four 
 years I have wished to die; there were days when I 
 prayed, each one, to die. But my life went on; after 
 each day came the night, and then again a day, until 
 
 now No, no, my child; it is long to the end, and 
 
 you are still young." 
 
 She was much agitated, but she controlled herself, and 
 laid her hand on Charlotte's arm. 
 
 "You are still young, Charlotte," she repeated, in a 
 changed, gentler tone, " and I am old, and bitter. You 
 will yet live to see a thousand happy hours. Misfortunes 
 do not follow every one as they have me." 
 
 "I will not have happiness!" cried Charlotte, passion- 
 ately, suddenly springing to her feet and drawing her- 
 self up to her full height, with her head thrown back. 
 The eyes looking out from the long lashes had a glint of 
 desperation in them. Then she buried her face in her 
 hands, and moaned: "What could I do with it alone!" 
 
 Aunt Edith sprang up, a great pity on the old face; it 
 was as if the last words of the girl had aroused her out 
 of her own grief, showing her a young, cruelly hurt 
 being, who, without encouragement, without loving sup- 
 port, must lose itself in despair.
 
 166 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 "Charlotte!" 
 
 She drew the girl to her; she tried to comfort her; 
 she knew not what to say; but I saw how her lips 
 quivered, and how her trembling hands stroked the fair 
 hair. Involuntarily she reached to the sewing-table and 
 took up the New Testament, in which she formerly read 
 each day, but which she had not opened since that 
 unhappy hour. When I saw this movement my heart 
 grew light. It had seemed so dreadful to me that Aunt 
 Edith's deep, God-fearing nature had become so cold, 
 so defiant to all, all attempts at consolation. 
 
 But almost instantly she drew back her hand from the 
 little black book and stretched out her arms, as if repell- 
 ing something. It was not strange that she thought she 
 saw an apparition, for there in the door stood dark, 
 gloomy, phantom-like Aunt Demphoff ! 
 
 What did she want? How came she here? 
 
 Charlotte, who had been startled by Aunt's hasty 
 movement, gazed into the rigid features of her mother; 
 then she stepped in front of Aunt Edith, as if she would 
 draw away from her the searching glance of the tall 
 woman who came with unsteady steps toward Charlotte 
 and offered her hand to Aunt Edith. 
 
 " I come to take back the hard words I spoke to you 
 when your son had shot mine," she began, in her cold, 
 hard voice, without further preparation, and dropped 
 again the hand that had not been taken. " One does 
 not weigh one's words in such an hour. I know now 
 that your son was forced into the duel; I know how far 
 it was from his intention to bring this grief upon me; I 
 know that it was only an unfortunate accident, and there- 
 fore " She ceased, and drew a deep breath; " and there- 
 fore," she began again, "I have been to B and prayed 
 His Majesty for Robert's pardon. Robert is already on
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 167 
 
 his way to Fftlkerode, or will leave C to-morrow. I 
 hope I have proved to you that I realize the wrong I did 
 you; and Edith I ask your forgiveness for my hard 
 words. It shall not be said that I am unjust." 
 
 Aunt Edith did not move. 
 
 " I thank you, Theresa," she said, and her voice 
 sounded nearly as hard as the one that had been speak- 
 ing. " It is pathetic that a mother should pray for the 
 pardon of the murderer of her son; and that you should 
 come to tell me, is a conquering of yourself " 
 
 " That you did not expect," volunteered Frau von 
 Demphoff, and her lip curled. 
 
 " Certainly not, Theresa, for it is twenty-three years 
 since your feet have crossed this threshold, and to this 
 day I do not know what I did to you that you should 
 avoid me as if I were an outcast. Forgive me if I can 
 not thank you as I should like, but the words will not 
 pass my lips. Lately, when your darling boy lay there, 
 pale and wounded, all the long, sorrow-laden years 
 seemed to have vanished; my heart was soft and tender; 
 I was able to give love and forgiveness. To-day it is 
 not so. A stone fills my breast, and and if to-day, 
 as in former years, you alienated the heart of my boy 
 from me, I should not heed it, for I have no longer any 
 feeling." 
 
 It seemed as if the old lady grew as she said these 
 words, she was so imposing as she stood before the large 
 figure of her sister-in-law. 
 
 " How glad I am, Theresa," she continued, " that I 
 can say this to you to-day. Long, long, have I 
 desired to do so! I have been most unhappy, and I 
 hold you responsible for the most of my suffering. You 
 drove me from my father's house, and in the night and 
 storm I left it like one dishonored. You have made my
 
 1G8 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 years of widowhood intolerable to me. You influenced 
 my brother to turn against me. You, and you only " 
 
 " Aunt! Aunt!" cried Charlotte, and seized the old lady's 
 outstretched arm; "mamma did not mean to harm you, 
 dear Aunt." 
 
 Frau von Demphoff never moved an eyelash; her large, 
 white hand lay quietly on the back of a chair. " Go, Char- 
 lotte!" she commanded. Her eyes scanned the room, and 
 rested on me. I had placed myself behind the curtain, 
 terrified at what was passing. " Take her with you," she 
 said, coldly, pointing to me. Mechanically I rose and 
 walked past the large woman, who followed me with a 
 dark, piercing glance,until she herself closed the door after 
 Charlotte and me. 
 
 Then we sat in Auntie's sleeping-room, and scarcely 
 dared to breathe. Charlotte fixed her eyes on the high 
 bronze door which had closed behind us. At first we 
 could not understand what was being said; we could hear 
 Aunt Edith's low voice, but the words were indistinct. 
 Then sounded the strong, penetrating, hard tones that 
 filled me with fear. Charlotte sprang up and stepped to 
 the door as if she would enter, but her hand sank to her 
 side, and paler than before she waited. I had involun- 
 tarily followed her; and now every word came distinctly 
 to my ears. 
 
 "I loved him how much, that I alone know. He 
 passed me by on your account. Do you know what 
 jealousy is? You cannot know. I, however, have tasted 
 it; I know the torture; it is worse than madness. I never 
 belonged to those who love one man, and forget him 
 for the next who offers his heart and hand, and then 
 swear an oath that this one, and only this one, was my first 
 and only love. I was no trifler. What I once seize, that 
 I hold fast. Berka gave me very little notice, but I
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 169 
 
 loved him, and the less he cared for me, the more my 
 love grew, until it became undying; and in spite of that 
 I was betrothed; in spite of that I married. I believed 
 myself strong enough to do it, and proud enough. No 
 one should know that I had been so weak as to give 
 my love without return. I schooled myself I began to 
 forget until I saw you with him. Then that unholy pas- 
 sion took complete possession of me, and it never left me, 
 not even after his death. I could not see you, Edith, with- 
 out losing my self-control. I do not know who was the 
 most to be pitied, I or you. Yes, you turn from me. 
 You were always the personification of all virtues, and 
 you can not understand that the woman who possessed 
 the heart of the best and noblest of men was untrue to 
 him in every thought. I do not know myself how it hap- 
 pened. I wrestled and struggled with myself in the un- 
 ceasing contest. I prayed God might help me to con- 
 quer the unfortunate passion, or else It never left me; 
 it drove me even to take his child to my heart, and feel 
 and show toward it a tenderness my own children never 
 knew." 
 
 It had become very still in that room; we heard only 
 the soft, quick ticking of the little clock by Auntie's bed. 
 
 I looked up to Charlotte for enlightenment. Could it be 
 possible it was that cold, heartless woman speaking 
 those words words that swept over one like a hot, 
 scorching breath. 
 
 " I would have peace, Edith, at any price," she con- 
 tinued. " I began the wrong way. I would not see you 
 or Robert, and became hard toward all mankind. Every- 
 thing was exemplary in my house, but cold, so cold, I was 
 myself frozen I chilled my husband and children. Yet 
 I left no duty unfulfilled, had they loved me. I feel it 
 now to be just that Joachim is lost to me." Again she
 
 170 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 was silent, and when Aunt Edith spoke we knew she was 
 weeping. She talked a long time, and occasionally was 
 a word spoken that sounded almost entreating and 
 soft. 
 
 " Because I detested her as much as you," said 
 
 Aunt Demphoff, again speaking. " Before they came 
 my husband had never complained of me had possibly 
 not known that it could be different between us. Then 
 he saw his brother's young happiness. O, how I hated 
 their absorption in one another! They saw only each 
 other. What one thought, the other thought. And it 
 appeared to me the eyes of my husband were directed 
 oftener than necessary on the happy, young wife, and that 
 they rested reproachfully on me afterward. I knew he 
 was making comparisons. Never had there been such 
 sunshine in our house. How it flooded them both! 
 
 " I was not deceived in my misgivings. I remember as 
 if it were to-day the first passionate scene between us. 
 I was gloomier than ever and of course formed a more 
 marked contrast to the pretty, elfish creature. It was 
 very natural that he should at first reproach me play- 
 fully for my coldness and reserve, and, as in jest, to hold 
 up this careless creature, not capable of a serious 
 thought, as an example to imitate of a wife who really 
 understood how to make her husband happv. 
 
 "How that mortified me! It turned every Jrop of my 
 blood to ice. I found myself and my faithfulness to 
 duty humiliatingly ignored. I felt this so keenly that I 
 said to myself, I will never change.. And, as with vult- 
 ure's claws, a fear seized me that I should lose what 
 alone made life of any worth the love of my husband! 
 Possibly I saw everything distorted at that time; but the 
 art and manner in which the coquettish creature dis- 
 played her charms before his earnest eyes, and the evi-
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 171 
 
 dent enjoyment he received from her raillery, drove me 
 wild, and then you know the rest." 
 
 Then Charlotte drew me almost roughly through the 
 open door into my room, and pushed me down on the 
 old-fashioned sofa. I did not know at that time why 
 she would not let me stay where I was. I had not 
 understood a word of what they were saying; had not 
 known that the frivolous coquette they were speaking of 
 meant my mother my mother whom I revered as pos- 
 sessing everything on this earth that could adorn a noble 
 woman. 
 
 When I had time for thought, the short sketch of that 
 woman's life took hold of me with great power. All 
 this suffering, these mistakes, had sprung from human 
 love this love that I had placed before me as the most 
 wonderful and blessed thing in all human life. There 
 sat Charlotte; what had it done for her, this joyous 
 maiden? Would she not have been a thousand times 
 happier if she had never loved Robert? And those two 
 in that room? I turned to Charlotte with the question 
 that sprang to my lips: 
 
 " Charlotte, would you not rather have never known 
 Robert Berka?" 
 
 She turned her head and looked at me. There was a 
 flash in her blue eyes that recalled the old Charlotte of 
 happy days. 
 
 "O, child, how you question!" she replied, and a 
 lovely color spread over her pale face. " What could I 
 be without that remembrance? I never should have 
 known how beautiful life can be." 
 
 That seemed to me very illogical from Charlotte. I 
 wanted to retort, "You do not need that remembrance, 
 for if you had it not you could not be unhappy." But 
 I was silent. There was something in her answer that
 
 172 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 left me thoughtful; and so we sat without speaking, 
 and it grew dusk in the room. Then Charlotte got up 
 and went into Auntie's room; and when I, after a long 
 time, ventured timidly to look in through the door, I saw 
 Aunt Edith sitting alone before the sofa table; the lamp 
 was burning, and threw its light full on a tear-wet face, 
 and before her lay the little black book. 
 
 " Such weeping does one good, Lena," she said, get- 
 ting up; " but the eyes burn from it, and do not see well. 
 Sit here, child, and read to me." 
 
 She showed me a place and leaned back in her chair. 
 It was Psalm LXXVII, and I began to read aloud: 
 
 " I cried unto God with my voice, and He gave ear unto me. 
 
 "In the day of my trouble I sought the Lord; my sore ran in the 
 night and ceased not; my soul refused to be comforted. 
 
 " I call to remembrance my song in the night; I communed with 
 mine own heart; and my spirit made diligent search. 
 
 " Will the Lord cast off forever, and will lie be favorable no more?" 
 
 " Stop, Lena." And after a long pause she asked: 
 " How reads the fourteenth verse?" 
 I read: 
 
 "Thou art the God that doeth wonders. Thou hast declared 
 Thy strength among the people." 
 
 " Amen!" she interrupted. " Who would have believed 
 that we would ever come together?" she began again. 
 " Now, after all these years, so much that was dark is 
 made clear between us, and Robert comes back; I shall 
 go to him both will go she and I." 
 
 "Charlotte!" I cried, hastily. 
 
 " No," she replied; " Theresa von Demphoff. It is as 
 if I dreamed Thou^art the God that doeth wonders!" 
 
 What further was said that afternoon between the 
 sisters-in-law, so long at enmity, I never learned. Out- 
 ward things remained the same as before. Frau von
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 173 
 
 Demphoff never came over here; Aunt Edith never 
 visited the villa; and yet there was a change. In what 
 did it really lie? Who can say? Aunt Edith found 
 again her even, calm manner, that was so sweet and 
 peaceful, and she was tireless in her loving care for 
 Charlotte, and sought in every way to comfort her. 
 
 Ferra came, in these short winter days, nearly every 
 day to the old cloister, and, with self-renunciation, 
 sewed on the coarse children's shirts we were making for 
 Christmas; even Gerhardt recognized her efforts with 
 commendatory words. Gerhardt, too, came daily, and 
 chatted with us; and they were the dearest hours that 
 one could imagine. 
 
 How heavenly it would have been in the charming 
 Christmas-time but for sorrow's dark shadow! Mean- 
 while, preparations were being made for Gerhardt's 
 journey, and the nearer the time drew, the more rebell- 
 ious he became. 
 
 " God knows what I am to do with myself over there," 
 he said, fretfully, one day. "I am perfectly well; a mat- 
 ter of caution, declares our old physician a matter of 
 caution! And what can be more of a bore than travel- 
 ing about alone, especially when one is fully convinced, 
 as I am, that it is spending money uselessly!" 
 
 "Yet, Gerhardt, you must go!" said Charlotte, sooth- 
 ingly. " This is the last time; next year you can 
 remain at home with us." 
 
 " Surely, with us?" said Ferra. " Who knows where 
 Lottchen will be next winter?" 
 
 " Here!" said Charlotte. " Where should I be?" 
 
 Ferra shrugged her shoulders. " Possibly," she said, 
 shortly. 
 
 And the Christmas festival grew near silent, cold, 
 and sad; only for me was there any joy, and for
 
 174 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 my darling, who sprang so jubilant from the snow- 
 covered sleigh. A pretty fir-tree was already lighted in 
 Auntie's room. There had grown in all hearts a love 
 for my beautiful boy. Gerhardt came over toward dusk 
 to see the tree, but more to see the delight that sparkled 
 in the dark eyes of the happy child. 
 
 The holidays passed like a dream, and before I knew 
 it George was gone again. In his little pocket, however, 
 he carried, with great pride, his school-money, that I 
 had earned sewing and crocheting. Now, Cousin Ger- 
 hardt could be spared that extra expense. 
 
 " I never go to the confectioner's, Lena, as the other 
 boys," said he, in his pretty, earnest way, " and I write 
 quite small in my diary, so I save paper; and I do not 
 have to pay on the coast-slide Christiana's uncle lets 
 me slide for nothing." 
 
 "You are a dear little fellow, George; but you have 
 your pocket-money for your good reports, and you can 
 buy your cakes on Sunday to eat." 
 
 " No, Lena, I am going to save it. Don't you know 
 what I am going to be? I am going to be a hunter and 
 be in the woods all day, so I must have a coat with green 
 capes, and high boots; I have already told Cousin Ger- 
 hardt." 
 
 A few hours later I heard no more the childish prat- 
 tle, and on the old cloister lay again silence and sadness. 
 I longed for George, and dreaded Gerhardt's journey. 
 It seemed to me everything would be taken from me 
 then.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 It was a perfect day in January. I sat solitary and 
 alone in Auntie's sitting-room, and was feeling more sad 
 than ever. Aunt Edith had left an hour before to visit 
 her son at FOlkerode; but alone, not with Frau von 
 Demphoff, as had been planned. Over in the villa vis- 
 itors had come unexpectedly, and detained the ladies at 
 home; so Charlotte could not come to me, and her 
 mother had to give up the drive she was to have taken 
 with Aunt Edith, which she intended doing without the 
 knowledge of her children. 
 
 And so Aunt Edith sat alone in the sleigh; that 
 lovely place by her side was empty. My glance rested 
 covetously on the elegant sleigh and its appointments. 
 Auntie had only regretted kindly that I must remain 
 alone, and drove away behind the bells, as if to a frolic. 
 And yet the mother's heart that she carried to her boy 
 was sad. 
 
 And as I sat alone and looked out into the glistening, 
 white park, or drew my needle and thread musingly 
 through my work, there came to me so many strange and 
 sorrowful ideas, that I threw away my work and wrapped 
 myself in a warm shawl. 
 
 I would go out in the fresh air, or to Gottlieb, or to 
 Jette in the kitchen anything, rather than stay alone 
 with such gloomy thoughts, such torturing questions as 
 "What is to become of you in the future?" How had I 
 come to meditate on this for the first time? Who can 
 
 (175)
 
 176 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 say? My thoughts were unbidden guests, and they would 
 not be turned away. When Aunt Edith stood before me, 
 ready for her journey, I noticed how old and sick her 
 face looked under the dark-blue hood, and just such a 
 look of weariness lay around my mother's mouth in her 
 last years. Suppose Aunt Edith should die; where 
 should I go then? Over to the villa? It would be dread- 
 ful to have to live with Ferra and Aunt Theresa. Stay 
 here? How could I do that alone? I shuddered. How 
 long would it be before George was grown up? 
 
 And if Gerhardt should marry? A cry escaped me. 
 It was torture to put that thought before me. I did not 
 wish to think of anyone near him, and yet it would 
 come, and, possibly, before long. 
 
 A firm step rang down the corridor, and the next 
 moment Gerhardt stood before me. The blood flew to 
 my face and I could not raise my eyes; an embarrass- 
 ment hitherto unknown seized me. 
 
 "Ah, Cousin, I see you know already!" he said, 
 between joking and earnest. "You have good reason 
 to be ashamed of yourself, so now sit down." 
 
 He led me to Auntie's easy-chair by the fire, and sat 
 down opposite me. 
 
 " I will read a letter to you which has filled me with 
 the greatest astonishment." 
 
 I ventured, shyly, to look at him, but his face was 
 concealed behind the large sheet of paper. 
 
 " I am very glad that the little piece of writing reached 
 me in time," he added, before beginning to read: 
 
 "DEAR COUSIN: Enclosed I send back the school-money for the 
 new-year term. It is already paid; Lena earned it. I thank you 
 very much for all your love and kindness; but Lena says you must 
 not pay everything for us, you have already done enough. I began 
 Latin yesterday. Adieu, dear Cousin. Greet Lena, and accept the 
 love of your little COUSIN GEORGE,"
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 177 
 
 He let the sheet fall and looked over at me. There 
 lay something in his blue eyes that was not anger nor joy, 
 something that made my heart beat and that made me 
 turn away from him. 
 
 " You are a foolish child, Lena," he said, softly; "and, 
 once for all, I will tell you I will not have your eyes lose 
 their brightness sewing long nights on fine work. I 
 should be seriously angry with Aunt Edith that she did 
 not watch more carefully the little girl with the good, 
 grateful heart, did I not know that all her thoughts now 
 are with her unfortunate son; but now, Lena, how can 
 I go away with a quiet mind when I think you live con- 
 tinually in the foolish idea that you are a burden to me? 
 It will end in my not taking any journey; I will unpack 
 the trunks." 
 
 "No, O no!" I cried, frightened. 
 
 "No? Shall I go, then?" he asked; "but will you 
 promise me not to accumulate any more capital by night 
 work? Or do you think it would be pleasant to me, 
 when I am roaming about somewhere in the South, to 
 
 think that here at home " He broke off suddenly. 
 
 "Will you promise me to be reasonable, Lena? Now, 
 let us shake hands on it," he said, encouragingly, and 
 held out his hand to me, and as I gave him my hand, 
 embarrassed and hesitatingly, he held it close in his 
 own. 
 
 " So; and now I have still a request to make of you. 
 I do not go away with a light heart, Lena, and chiefly on 
 account of Charlotte. She gives me a great deal of anx- 
 iety. Should anything happen to her, should she be ill, 
 I pray you to inform me immediately. I have written 
 out my route for you, accurately, and depend upon your 
 goodness. Unfortunately, I can not count on Ferra; she 
 is not observing, and, besides, I do not think she will 
 12
 
 178 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 remain here during the winter. Charlotte would never 
 complain to mother, and Aunt Edith I do not wish to 
 trouble will you give me news sometimes?" 
 
 "Most willingly," I assured him. 
 
 " I thank you in anticipation, Cousin, and the answer 
 shall I send it to your address?" 
 
 "O yes!" I cried, enraptured; "I never received a 
 letter in my life, except from George." 
 
 Gerhardt smiled, then drew his note-book from his 
 pocket and took out a leaf. 
 
 "First, little Cousin, Lucerne; then the Italian lakes; 
 from Milan to Florence; and finally, Naples. Have you 
 heard anything about the place of which the Italians 
 say, ' When you have seen Naples, die?' " 
 
 " Only what I learned in geography," I said, feeling 
 almost mortified. 
 
 " I wish you could go with me, Magdalena; it is 
 
 delightful there; and yet Do you know the little 
 
 song, ' Between France and Bohemia?' " 
 
 I shook my head. 
 
 "No? Charlotte sings it charmingly; sometime, 
 possibly a happy hour will come to her, then ask her to 
 sing it to you her voice is peculiarly adapted to this 
 little song." 
 
 " Charlotte never sings any more," I cried out, but 
 stopped; dare I say to him that she was far more 
 unhappy than people knew? 
 
 " Never any more? Really, Lena? I almost feared 
 it," said Gerhardt. " Yet, Charlotte she is still so 
 young, one such hurt must heal; it would be unnatural 
 if she remained always in this melancholy condition. I 
 hoped much from a journey for her, but she will not 
 leave Wendhusen, and one does not feel like forcing her 
 now. Time, time must help."
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 179 
 
 He had been slowly walking up and down the room; 
 now he stood before me. 
 
 " Has Charlotte I think you are confidential with 
 one another never spoken to you of her love?" 
 
 " No; I have seen them together, however," I an- 
 swered, courageously. Why should he not know it? 
 
 "Whom, Cousin?" 
 
 " Robert and Charlotte, when they became betrothed." 
 
 " Betrothed!" he cried, astonished. " Had it gone so 
 far? When was that, Lena?" 
 
 " The evening before the duel." 
 
 He was silent for a moment, and seemed buried in 
 thought. 
 
 " The poor, poor child!" he said then, in a tone of 
 deepest sympathy. "I had not thought it; I did not 
 believe it had gone so far." 
 
 " Disaster rules over the women of our house," he 
 began after a while, and pushed his thick, fair hair back 
 from his forehead. " All sorts of romantic stories have 
 come down to us out of the time long past. Elope- 
 ments, fleeing to cloisters, unhappy marriages, and even 
 suicide, to which a great-aunt was driven when her 
 lover fell under old Fritz, at Hochkirch. My grandmother 
 used sometimes to relate to us in detail the tragic tale; 
 how they searched for her a dark October night that fol- 
 lowed the cruel day, and finally found her, shot through 
 the head. As a soldier's child, she had despised to take 
 poison, or drown herself, and had taken this unusual 
 means, for a woman, to end the life that she could not 
 endure to live without him. And so it has been down to 
 Aunt Edith, and Ferra, and Charlotte. It is strange that 
 no blessing rests on our house. The life of my parents 
 was cold, and devoid of love. Ferra, although her mar- 
 ried life was short, was particularly unhappy, because
 
 180 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 she loved another, whom she threw over out of caprice. 
 And the poor child Charlotte sees the blood of her brother 
 between herself and her happiness! Truly, one might well 
 be superstitious." 
 
 He began again to walk up and down the room. 
 
 " Lena," he said, after a pause, stopping in front of me, 
 " what would you do if you had loved some one with 
 your whole heart, and he had been so unfortunate as to 
 have shot your brother George?" 
 
 I looked at him, startled, and could find no answer. 
 
 "But why should I ask you?" he said, softly; "you 
 could not answer." 
 
 " O, I can not say what I would do," I answered; " if I 
 I think, however, if I were in Charlotte's place, I would 
 goto Robert and say: 'You are unhappy enough, you 
 shall not be made still more so. I belong to you, and 
 whatever the world may say, shall not influence me.' " I 
 spoke with the fullest conviction, and could not conceive 
 in this moment why Charlotte had not done so long ago. 
 
 Gerhardt now stood close before me. " Would you do 
 that, Cousin?" 
 
 "Yes, for that must be a pitiable, uncertain love that 
 would be turned aside for such a reason. I was lately in 
 the church, and saw the pastor marry a young couple, 
 and heard the solemn service. They vowed to be true 
 to each other, in good and bad days, in need, in death, 
 through all fortunes. And is not the vow that one gives 
 in betrothal just as solemn as before the altar? Suppose 
 Charlotte and Robert had been already married when 
 that misfortune happened; would she have left his house? 
 Would it not have been her duty to have stood by his 
 side, doubly true? No, Cousin, when I thought of him 
 sitting in his solitary house, alone in his pain and grief, I 
 I do not know whether I could hold out to leave him
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 181 
 
 without comfort. I do not believe I could, however. O, 
 if I dared to say this to Charlotte, if I " 
 
 I stopped, confused, for in the dusk of the room I saw 
 behind Gerhardt a deathly-white face. 
 
 "Charlotte!" I cried, frightened. 
 
 Yes, there she stood; we had not heard her enter. She 
 supported herself on the back of a chair, and her eyes 
 almost devoured my face. 
 
 " Magdalena," she said, in a low voice, " will you go 
 with me to Fftlkerode?" 
 
 " Charlotte, do you mean it?" I cried. 
 
 She advanced nearer to Gerhardt, with a flush on her 
 sweet face. 
 
 " Magdalena is right," she said to him. " I have been 
 faithless, and have forgotten my duty. When he came to 
 me in his despair, I commanded him to leave me, turned 
 from him, instead of comforting him and standing by 
 his side, as the one should have done who only a few 
 hours before had promised to be his wife. I sent him 
 away, because I fancied the blood he had spilled sepa- 
 rated us forever. He killed my brother, yes; but was he 
 not forced to do so in self-defense? Did it not happen 
 unintentionally through an unforeseen accident? Robert 
 stands a thousand times nearer my heart than Joachim 
 what was he to me in life? Nothing. He wickedly 
 played with a human life; because his own was of no 
 worth to himself, he valued no other. Not a single 
 voice in my heart speaks for him; all my thoughts are 
 for him who is as my life. Magdalena is right. Since 
 that hour when I sent him from me, I have said to 
 myself what she has just said aloud, and have wrestled 
 with myself. I would not listen to this voice and why? 
 Because the words, ' He has killed your brother,' never 
 left me. Because I knew the world would throw up its
 
 182 CLOISTER \VENDHUSEN. 
 
 hands and cry out against the ' heartless sister.' But 
 I can do no differently, Gerhardt I can do no differ- 
 ently! Help me, brother, I entreat you!" 
 
 She held out her hands to him; her eyes were deter- 
 mined, and in her whole bearing was an unshaken reso- 
 lution. 
 
 Gerhardt took her hands. 
 
 " Charlotte, have you thought seriously of what you 
 desire to do?" he said, soothingly. " I am not alone the 
 one to decide in this matter. Would you not painfully 
 grieve your mother, who is in no condition to listen to 
 reason? Think! She was bitterly opposed to Robert; 
 and now it is impossible, Charlotte. Calm yourself, 
 dear," he said, anxiously. " I feel it is good and right, 
 what you say, but you are unnerved now; we will talk it 
 over coolly when let us wait a while before deciding." 
 
 " My mother?" For a moment a triumphant smile 
 played around her delicate mouth. "O, Gerhardt, if I 
 were as sure of everything as I am that she would 
 approve of my resolve! You do not know her as I do. 
 But if she opposed me with her whole being, I .could 
 not do otherwise. I can know m> peace until I have-- 
 seen him. And wait, Gerhardt? Why should..!? No!" 
 she cried, "no, Gerhardt; now must I go to him. ~ Do- 
 you think I would be so frivolous as to say to him: ' I 
 am here; you have your bride again?' No, between our 
 love's happiness lie dark and heavy clouds, and who can 
 tell when they will lighten? I have not thought so far 
 as that. I would only go to him and show him he has 
 not lost my love. I will only give him a word of com- 
 fort, to prove to him that I possess a character that 
 clings fast to that that it believes good and right. This 
 only will bring peace to myself, for a life such as I have 
 led these last weeks O, it has been horrible! Always to
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 183. 
 
 see before me his sad, white face, when I said, so piti- 
 less: 'We must separate, Robert. Go!' How could I 
 have done it? Gerhardt, only the once I beg you," 
 she cried, and clung to his arm. He was silent, and 
 looked down on her earnestly. " Then I will go away 
 with you to-morrow, if it must be; only let me see him, 
 Gerhardt. You do not know what it is to lose a happi- 
 ness that one already held so secure." The large man 
 took the slender form of his sister very tenderly in his 
 arms. 
 
 "When would you go?" 
 
 But instead of an answer came almost a shriek from 
 the poor, overtaxed heart. 
 
 " Now, now, Gerhardt!" rang from her lips, " as quick 
 as I can." He went to the table and brought her a glass 
 of water; then he looked at his watch. 
 
 " A quarter to 5 ; you ca-n be there at 9 o'clock. It 
 is a relief to me to know Aunt Edith is there. But 
 your promise, Charlotte will you come with me?" 
 
 "Yes, yes!" She spoke impatiently. "Wherever you 
 will; only now to him to Folkerode." 
 
 A quarter of an hour later a sleigh stopped before the 
 gate. Gottlieb sat in his place, and, wrapped in thick 
 furs and rofres, Gerhardt helped us in. 
 
 " A safe journey," he said, with emotion. " Come 
 back again to-night. You can use Aunt Edith's horses; 
 they will be rested by that time." 
 
 I replied to him, for Charlotte was scarcely able to 
 speak. 
 
 "I wish I could go with you," he said, regretfully; 
 " but unfortunately it is impossible. I must trust you 
 to Gottlieb bring them safely back, old man." 
 
 "Gerhardt!" said Charlotte, and bent her beautiful 
 face down to him, " I thank you!"
 
 184 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 Much moved, he pressed a kiss on her forehead. 
 
 "Adieu, Charlotte; adieu, Cousin." 
 
 The spirited horses started, and away we flew into the 
 darkening night. 
 
 It was a calm, clear, winter night. Before us, the 
 level, white land; at our side, in the distance, the 
 snow-crowned mountains. In the west still lay on the 
 horizon the pale gold of the sunset; above us, the stars 
 began to come out one by one. No sound, far or 
 near, but the jingling of our bells, and now and then 
 the cracking of the whip. Here and there lay a town 
 on the way. We saw the lighted windows under the 
 white roofs, and occasionally an angry dog would follow 
 us for a short distance, barking furiously. Then we left 
 the towns behind us, and finally turned into the lonely 
 forest road. Who has not seen a forest in its winter 
 robe of snow, bathed with silvery moonlight till it glis- 
 tens and sparkles as if strewn with millions of diamonds? 
 It is fairy-land that one can see in our Northern lands, 
 so beautiful it can not be described! A cry of ecstasy 
 escaped my lips. 
 
 "O, Charlotte, see how exquisite!" I cried; but she 
 answered absently; only Gottlieb shared my enthusiasm; 
 and so we went, silent, farther and yet farther into the 
 snow-clad forest. It seemed an endless journey, and 
 gradually the cold penetrated through furs and 
 mantle. 
 
 " How long before we shall get there?" I inquired, 
 softly, of Gottlieb. 
 
 " A half-hour, Fraulein," he replied; and then Charlotte 
 spoke. 
 
 " Are we already in the FOlkerode district?" she asked. 
 " Yes, we entered that some time since, Fraulein Char- 
 lotte."
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSKN. 185 
 
 With an "Ah!" she straightened herself up from her 
 inclined position. 
 
 " At last!" came from the full heart. " At last, Lena; 
 how good it is! Ah, night after night have I dreamed of 
 driving through these woods to him. O, what blessed- 
 ness that it is not a dream to-day; that I have freed 
 myself from all considerations, that would smother the 
 noblest, the best that dwells in human hearts the pure, 
 true love! O, Lena, I am awakened as from a frightful 
 nightmare." 
 
 At this moment the sleigh turned into a by-road, and 
 at the end of this road two bright points glimmered 
 through the darkness. 
 
 " The forest-house, Fraulein Charlotte," said Gottlieb, 
 reining in the horses. " Shall I drive to it, or will you 
 get out? I think the hounds will make a great ado." 
 
 " No, I will get out here," cried Charlotte. " O, I 
 know it all quite well enough from his description." 
 
 And in the next moment she had flung back the robe, 
 and with a spring was on the ground. 
 
 " I will drive after you slowly," said Gottlieb, helping 
 me out. 
 
 I stepped behind Lotta in the narrow path that was 
 trodden in the snow, and the two bright spots grew 
 larger, and the dark outlines of a house appeared from 
 the background of whiteness. It was an imposing build- 
 ing that lay before us in the glimmering moonlight. It 
 was surrounded by giant old trees, which stretched their 
 bare branches protectingly over its white, gabled roof. 
 Broad, massive steps led up to the door, on which the 
 snow-storm, with delicate hand, had traced all the outlines 
 of the heavy carving. Over the door was the true sign 
 of a hunter's home a splendid pair of antlers; and 
 behind, all the grand old forest; and over all, the brood-
 
 186 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 ing silence of the night no noise, no sound, to remind 
 one of the outside world. A peace, a chaste solitude 
 that was almost overpowering, rested upon this lonely 
 hunter's house. Charlotte stood before the steps. The 
 hood of the fur-lined mantle had slipped half off from 
 the fair hair, and the sweet face in the pale moonlight 
 looked exquisitely lovely peering out from the dark vel- 
 vet wrap. Her glance hung with unutterable longing 
 on the two bright-lighted windows; she folded her hands 
 over her breast and stood heedlessly in the deep snow. 
 
 "There! in there!" she whispered, "Aunt Edith and 
 he and he !" 
 
 In mute haste, as if every moment counted, she hurried 
 up the steps. The mantle slipped from her shoulders 
 and lay like a dark shadow on the white ground; but she 
 paid no attention to it. Her hand raised the shining 
 knocker and let it fall hard on the metal plate. In the 
 court, the dogs began to bark. With beating heart, I 
 leaned against the iron railing, and closed my eyes. 
 
 Then the door opened. A man's voice cried out in 
 the still night: 
 
 " Charlotte! Charlotte!" 
 
 Never shall I forget that tone, that deep, passionate 
 cry; a whole world of sorrow and joy lay in that simple 
 name. Reddish lamp-light streamed out of the open 
 door, mingling strangely with the bluish glitter of the 
 moonlight. On the threshold stood the slender figure 
 of the young girl; she had bent over and taken in both 
 her hands the head of the man who had sunk down 
 before her; and "Charlotte!" repeated he; yet again, 
 " Charlotte!"
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Wendhusen was now very lonely. Gerhardt and 
 Charlotte had started on their journey to the South, 
 and Ferra, with her child and its nurse, had gone to 
 Berlin to enjoy at least something of the carnival. 
 Theatres and concerts were in keeping with mourning, 
 she thought, and here the solitude was too trying on 
 one's nerves. Aunt Edith and I in the old cloister, and 
 Frau von Demphoff in the villa, were for the time being 
 the only inhabitants of the great rooms at Wendhusen; 
 and the winter storms of snow and sleet beat upon the 
 old walls. Uniformly came and went the days, and each 
 evening I rubbed out a chalk-mark on my chamber door. 
 Gottlieb had recommended that to me as a sure means 
 of making the time pass faster. The old man himself, 
 even, had made lines on the brown wainscoting of the 
 door. 
 
 That was a hard day for me when Gerhardt and Lotta 
 came to say good-bye to us. I could not control myself; 
 I cried like a little girl as Charlotte pressed kiss after 
 kiss on my mouth. 
 
 " I will write often, Lena, and you will answer me, 
 won't you?" 
 
 I nodded, and looked in her beautiful face. We had 
 been such close friends since that evening in the Folke- 
 rode forest-house. When we drove back, late in the night, 
 to Wendhusen, she had kept her arm around me and 
 called me a thousand caressing names, and poured into 
 
 (187)
 
 188 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 my ear warm, grateful words of thanks. I had been 
 the first to speak what she had been carrying so long in 
 her heart. 
 
 "And are you at peace now, Charlotte?" I had then 
 asked. 
 
 " O, Lena," she answered, " I can not describe to you 
 how miserable I was, and how different it is now! Do 
 you remember once, in the summer, on one of our walks, 
 how we were overtaken by a fearful storm? You know 
 how the trees bent and swayed till it seemed as if they 
 must be uprooted in the tempest. So it was with me. 
 Just so my heart was beaten upon, and it knew not 
 where to conceal itself, of whom to seek shelter from 
 the wild storms of thoughts and feelings. And then, 
 after a while, when the thunder and lightning had 
 ceased, and only light drops fell upon us though still 
 the heavens were cloudy, though the sun did not appear, 
 but nevertheless a great breath of relief went through 
 all nature a peaceful rest and there came a rent in the 
 clouds and a bit of the blue heavens smiled upon us 
 so it is with me, Lena; my sun will not shine upon me 
 for many a long day; but the storm has passed, the calm 
 has come, and I saw a little piece of the blue sky. 
 When I heard him call my name, when I looked in the 
 dear, pale face, and read in his eyes what he had suffered 
 in the time of our separation, when I felt what a miracle 
 could be wrought by a few little words spoken in love, 
 I found my peace, Lena, because I did what was my 
 duty." 
 
 So now I was looking in her moist eyes. 
 
 " I will write as often as you wish, Lena everything, 
 everything which happens." 
 
 Gerhardt's good-bye was remarkable. He walked 
 impatiently up and down the room, and finally he said to
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 189 
 
 Charlotte, and his voice sounded almost angry, " That is 
 enough of kisses, Sister." 
 
 And as she turned around, surprised, he came up to 
 me and reached out his hand in a hurried way, with 
 almost a frown on his face. 
 
 " Fare you well, Cousin." 
 
 But at the door he turned around again and stopped 
 before me, taking my hand again in his. Charlotte was 
 already outside, and Aunt Edith had followed her. 
 
 " Magdalena," he said, softly, " do you remember 
 what you have promised me?" 
 
 I bowed my head in assent, and the tears flooded my 
 eyes again. 
 
 "You must not weep, little Cousin; what are a few 
 months of separation from Charlotte? How quickly 
 they will pass; and then it is no distance at all; one can 
 get here in forty-eight hours, and even less time; you 
 must be comforted by that. Why, it is scarcely worth 
 while saying good-bye. I think in these present days one 
 should not have any solemn farewells. Such tearful 
 parting scenes are most harrowing to me. Now dry your 
 eyes, Lena, and smile before I go, else I shall always see 
 you before me thus." 
 
 I tried to smile, but it was a total failure. 
 
 " Look at me, Lena," he said, earnestly. I looked up 
 at him, but he looked very indistinct through the thick 
 tears that welled up in my eyes. 
 
 "Adieu, Lena," he said, again; "and when I come 
 back you will have once more the pretty curls instead of 
 the ugly braids, will you not?" 
 
 Then I had to laugh that he should regret the curls 
 that I had not worn for a long, long time now. 
 
 " O, Cousin!" I cried; " then I used to look like a wild 
 gypsy girl."
 
 190 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 " Even for that reason," answered he, earnestly; 
 " but who told you so?" 
 
 " Ferra," I replied, still laughing. 
 
 " So? When spring is here, then they will flutter 
 again about the little head, will they not? I have noth- 
 ing against the braids now. See, I have accomplished 
 what I was trying for you are laughing; but now I 
 must go, before it becomes serious again." 
 
 And at the same moment the fair head bent down, I 
 felt a kiss on my forehead, so soft and shy as scarcely to 
 be noticed, and " Farewell, Magdalena," whispered his 
 voice in my ear; then, without turning around, he went 
 out of the room. 
 
 Amazed, I looked after him, but the door closed 
 behind him. Then I flew to my room and hid my glow- 
 ing face in the pillow of the old sofa. 
 
 I felt as if heaven and earth were joined! I lived in 
 dreams in the days that followed. What went through 
 my young heart I no longer remember to-day, but it was 
 a sweet, blessed time. 
 
 For hours I would sit in the window-seat and look 
 out into the park; for hours in the twilight I would sit 
 by the high chimney and watch the flickering flames, 
 while I lovingly stroked the cat on my lap. In the 
 evening lay the atlas on the table, and my finger fol- 
 lowed the travelers on the map, while my fancy painted 
 the Swiss Alps and the Italian landscape. 
 
 Aunt Edith gave me entire freedom, loving and sweet 
 to me as always, and spoiling me as if I were a little 
 princess. She was so unselfish, the tender, sorely 
 tried woman; and since that evening that Charlotte so 
 unexpectedly entered Robert's house, had come back 
 again the old trust and thankfulness. 
 
 "See, child," she said, that same evening, to me; "it
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 191 
 
 must have ended so, else both would have gone to ruin. 
 You have no idea in what a desperate condition I found 
 Robert only two hours before. Thank God, he has 
 again found courage to live his life." And in her grati- 
 tude she could not do enough, she felt, toward caring for 
 and helping others. Anyone who bore a sorrow in his 
 heart, found comfort in her; the sick, the poor, found 
 help and counsel. With no thought for herself, she gave 
 her life for others. 
 
 Between Aunt Edith and Ferra there was a very 
 uncomfortable scene before the departure of the latter. 
 
 At first, Ferra had intended to remain at Wendhusen, 
 so at least she said, when she came over to the cloister 
 in a very ill-natured mood, one day. She felt it her 
 duty to do so, as she had promised Gerhardt; but some 
 one else must be present, for since Joachim's death there 
 was no having a reasonable word with mamma. 
 
 She would lock herself in her room for a half day at a 
 time, and when she would come to the table at noon, she 
 had neither eyes nor ears for her Ferra nor for the 
 sweet, little boy that was so cunning now with his childish 
 prattle. So, as she had received a very urgent invita- 
 tion from a very dear friend, which she really could not 
 decline graciously, she had decided to leave the next 
 day. Gerhardt would approve of her resolution, she felt 
 assured. She should write him as soon as she reached 
 Berlin. 
 
 " There will be nothing else for him to do," laughed 
 Aunt Edith. " However, I believe also that Gerhardt will 
 be very willing for you to have a little change, Ferra. 
 Only I think, if Theresa your mother" she corrected 
 herself " is suffering so, it would be well if one of her 
 children remained near her, in case she " 
 
 "Should be ill!" volunteered Ferra. "But, Aunt,
 
 192 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 mamma ill, with her robust health? I will wager with 
 you, as high as you will, that mamma will outlive us all 
 Gerhardt, Charlotte, and me. Joachim was the only one 
 who inherited her iron constitution, which unfortunately 
 wasn't of much use to him. The idea of mamma being 
 ill! She who has no idea what nerves are, she never had 
 an ache in her finger!" 
 
 " As you think best," said Aunt Edith, quietly; "you 
 must know where your duty lies." 
 
 "Certainly, I know,"said Ferra, rapidly; "my duty is to 
 myself and my child. My nerves are completely unstrung 
 since that catastrophe with Joachim. I gave up my trip 
 that I planned before Christmas, on Gerhardt's account; 
 now I feel I can not let it go any longer. I must consult 
 a physician." 
 
 Aunt Edith looked wonderingly upon the young 
 woman. How changed she was in a short time! Where 
 was the soft, caressing manner, which so lately had 
 charmed every one? 
 
 "I must further confess," she continued, and the red 
 of indignation colored the beautiful face, " I consider 
 it very wrong of Gerhardt to go to Italy. If it has not 
 been necessary for him to go before, it is now quite 
 superfluous. He preaches the entire day, we must econ- 
 omize! ' Economize' has become our watchword; I won- 
 der he has not had it put over the entrance to the villa 
 as a device. But in spite of all that, he has undertaken 
 this journey; and that was not enough no, Lotta must 
 go with him; Lotta is unhappy, something must be done 
 for her. I must say that her good sense would have 
 kept her at home; but she was over-persuaded, and in 
 spite of economy she had to go, and why? Only because 
 she looked a little pale, and was more quiet than usual, 
 for which I thanked God daily. Her hoidenish manners
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 193 
 
 were insupportable. Gerhardt had no thought whether 
 I needed recreation. It would not have done me any 
 harm to go to Italy." 
 
 " You are wrong, Ferra," interrupted Aunt Edith for 
 the first time. " That Gerhardt has taken the death of 
 his brother, and the circumstances connected with it, 
 very hard, every one can see; until now, no one spoke with 
 such conviction of Gerhardt's illness as yourself; and now 
 that he has been persuaded to do something for him- 
 self, you are exciting yourself in a very unnecessary 
 way. That, moreover, Charlotte gave us cause for serious 
 consideration, you can hardly deny." 
 
 Ferra laughed. " Dearest Aunt, you will not take any 
 part against Gerhardt or Lotta; that would be unheard 
 of," she said, vivaciously. " Please do not believe, how- 
 ever, that Ferra von Riedingen does not remark what 
 goes on about her! I know very well what is the matter 
 with Charlotte; but you can not make me believe that 
 one dies of love-sickness." 
 
 Aunt Edith's paie face flushed with agitation. 
 
 "Certainly not, Ferra." She spoke excitedly, and 
 laid her work on the table. " Because your superficial 
 nature has no conception of real love." 
 
 " But, Aunt Edith, I beg!" replied Ferra, more aston- 
 ished than angry. "Now you are unjust. That one 
 does not die from disappointed love, you can see by me." 
 
 " Do not explain your words or twist around what you 
 have said," cried Aunt, commandingly, so that Ferra, 
 who had never heard such a tone from the gentle woman, 
 was silent. 
 
 " I will not suffer a spiteful word to be said against 
 Charlotte," she continued, angrily, "for she stands a 
 thousand times higher than you, with your miserable 
 egotism! Believe, that the old woman here before you 
 
 13
 
 194 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 has seen through your actions for a long time. I know 
 the object of every one of your acts. You understand 
 me I see it in your manner and so it is unnecessary to 
 say the hard words to your face that I have for you 
 only these: Your work, your self-denial, was in vain 
 that you can rest assured of." 
 
 "I do not know what you mean!" stammered Ferra, 
 with tears in her eyes. " You are all so unkind to me, 
 so unfriendly, and I do no harm to anyone." 
 
 She stepped over to Aunt, and the charming face 
 looked very entreating. 
 
 " Tell me what it is you find to complain of in me?" 
 she begged. "Ah! it is quite possible I am a little self- 
 ish sometimes; Riedingen quite spoiled me." 
 
 Aunt Edith looked at her without a word. She had 
 evidently expected an angry, impatient answer; but the 
 eel-like nature twisted and turned, and, like a scolded, 
 repentant child, it lay, as it were, at her feet praying for 
 forgiveness. 
 
 " See, dearest Auntie, I do not mean any harm," she 
 continued, caressingly, " when I say Charlotte will not 
 die of her love troubles. Since she was so inconsider- 
 ate as to conceive an affection for Robert, there would 
 have been an unavoidable contest, for mamma would 
 never have consented to a marriage; so God has inter- 
 fered just at the right time, before the love became 
 deep while it was yet unspoken. Now she must and 
 will conquer it. See, that was what I meant. Pray do 
 not be angry with me; it makes me so unhappy." 
 
 "O, Ferra!" said Aunt Edith, and drew away her hand 
 from the young woman, who was about to carry it to her 
 lips; " I could weep over you." And, picking up a bunch 
 of keys, she went with energetic step out of the room. 
 
 Ferra looked after her; she had a handkerchief in her
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 195 
 
 hand, and scarcely had the door closed behind the old 
 lady before she threw herself into the nearest chair, and, 
 pressing her handkerchief before her face, began to weep 
 bitterly. " Dear Magdalena," she said, after a while, 
 straightening herself up and looking up at me with wet 
 eyes, "you do not know how unhappy I feel; no one 
 understands me here. I am a stranger among my own, 
 and where I think to find sympathy and forbearance, 
 there is only mistrust." 
 
 I was embarrassed, and could find no answer. The 
 elegant, beautiful woman, even in her tears, did not 
 seem to be in need of sympathy. Some way, something 
 was lacking in her grief; what it was, at that moment I 
 could not tell; later I knew it was truth. 
 
 " When I was your age," she continued, " I lived 
 through a great disillusion, and when, a few years later, 
 I believed I had conquered myself, and, full of con- 
 fidence, gave Riedingen my hand, then " 
 
 And then followed a description of her unfortunate 
 life that drove the hot blood to my cheeks. It was the 
 picture of a modern marriage, in which the man, a 
 notorious debauchee, insulted and disgraced the poor, 
 sincerely loving wife in every conceivable manner. 
 
 " I was at that time tempted to make an end of my 
 life," she concluded. 
 
 " But you had your child, your little child," I cried, 
 wanting to say something to her. 
 
 " Yes, my sweet darling; but he was so little I could 
 not complain to him of my pain and misery. O, Lena, 
 consider well," she continued, playing nervously with 
 the jet beads of her necklace, "before you give hearing 
 to a wooer. I should have been a thousand times happier 
 if I had never married! One loves, one becomes a slave, 
 one bears all humors with inexhaustible patience, and
 
 196 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 earns only ingratitude. Everything that one as a girl 
 beautifully dreamed and hoped, goes under in the revolt- 
 ing selfishness of our lords and masters. And men are 
 all alike, all; I despise the whole sex." 
 
 " That is not true, Ferra," said Aunt Edith, coolly, 
 who had heard the last words as she entered; " God be 
 thanked that there are exceptions. I pray you, do not 
 share your experiences with that young thing there. 
 She will form an entirely wrong impression from such 
 circumstances." 
 
 "All men are egotists," repeated Ferra, with gentle 
 insistence, only her eyes flashed as they rested upon Aunt 
 Edith. "My husband was, so was yours; all are, on this 
 round globe; and Gerhardt, your much-admired Ger- 
 hardt, is one of the most prominent of the species. 
 Forgive me, dear Aunt, that I speak this truth aloud to 
 those innocent ears; but she can not be kept forever in 
 ignorance. I deplore, however, that I continually excite 
 your condemnation to-day, dear Aunt. I pray you to 
 forgive me, and forgive me also that in spite of your 
 disapproval I shall go to Berlin; when I come back it is 
 to be hoped my nerves will not be so irritable." 
 
 She took her cloak, and, bending over Aunt Edith's 
 hand, made her adieu, giving me a cool, friendly nod, 
 and left the room. 
 
 "Ferra is a deplorable character. She has never 
 understood how to be satisfied with what she possessed. 
 Discontentment makes life a torment, and drives one to 
 commit follies," said Aunt Edith, when we were left alone. 
 
 She took up her knitting-work again, opened a 
 romance of Walter Scott, and buried herself, without 
 wasting further words, in " The Antiquary." She evi- 
 dently wished to show me how little attention she paid 
 to Ferra's reasoning.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Ferra had been gone already nearly four weeks, and 
 February was approaching its end. Aunt had visited 
 Robert twice, but he had not been here; it was not pos- 
 sible, at present. He had said to Charlotte, that night, he 
 never wished to see Wendhusen again, and he could not 
 endure the thought of it. The last time when Aunt 
 Edith was to drive to FOlkerode, and Gerhardt's team 
 stood before the gate for Gottlieb's old cloister horse 
 was no longer equal to the long way and I was running 
 behind her with the foot-muff and covers to tuck around 
 her to protect her from the windy weather, I saw her 
 stop and step back as she raised her foot to get into the 
 carriage. There on the silver-gray silken cushions sat 
 Frau von Demphoff, and she stretched her hands out to 
 her sister-in-law to help her in. 
 
 " I am going with you to-day, Edith," she said, quietly; 
 " or shall I trouble you?" 
 
 Aunt did not answer, but stared into the pale face of 
 the woman who had frightfully changed within a few 
 weeks. There were blue circles around the deep-set 
 gray eyes, and the lines of the face had become sharp, 
 as of a woman past seventy. 
 
 "Theresa, you are ill," said Aunt Edith, softly; 
 " ought you to go?" 
 
 " Yes," came back, quickly, the response; " it is on that 
 account I wish to go. Who knows if I shall ever be 
 anything else. You are right, I am ill; but it is nothing 
 new I have been so for a long time." 
 
 (197)
 
 198 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 As Aunt sat down beside her, I leaned into the car- 
 riage to wrap the carriage-robe around their feet; and as 
 I did so, I offered to Frau von Demphoff a shy good- 
 day. I always felt timid before her. She did not reply 
 to me, but she bent down and looked in my face. It was 
 a strange, deep glance a glance that went through my 
 eyes to my soul. Her lips moved lightly, but no word 
 came, only it seemed to me as if the cold stare in her 
 eyes gradually faded away, and mild, friendly beams 
 took its place. 
 
 But it was only for a moment; then she settled herself 
 back in the seat, and the carriage rolled away. In the 
 bend of the road, Aunt Edith looked back and nodded to 
 me. When she came home, late in the evening, she took 
 me tenderly in her arms, and kissed me again and again. 
 
 "Robert sent greetings to you," she said; "and the 
 beeches have buds it is spring in the forest." 
 
 " O, spring!" 
 
 In the spring they will come back again from -the far 
 country where it is always green, and the flowers ever 
 bloom. Charlotte writes that one in Germany can not 
 know how wonderful it all is there, and yet she had a 
 continual longing. What is all the brilliant coloring of 
 the South in comparison with a German beech woods! 
 The whole marvelous glory of bloom vanished at the 
 thought of the cool, dark forest at home. 
 
 Ah, I knew it well; her whole heart was in the forest 
 right in the middle of the forest. 
 
 She wrote often, as she promised to do; and there was 
 always a greeting from Gerhardt in the letter, but never 
 a line from his hand. What had he to write? Charlotte 
 was there with him; he did not need to ask how she 
 was. I was almost angry; I had childishly rejoiced and 
 Counted on his letters.
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 199 
 
 The chalk-marks on my door grew less and less; now 
 there were only forty forty long days before they would 
 come home. 
 
 Outside raged the spring storms over the mountains, 
 bringing a sharp, invigorating breath. 
 
 The March sun burnt hot on the sandstone steps of 
 the old cloister threshold, and peeped through the white 
 curtains. It was bright in the great, comfortable room, 
 and Auntie's windows were filled with delicate-tinted 
 hyacinths. 
 
 In the Abbess House, however, the windows were all 
 wide open ; the pure, crisp spring air blew through the cold, 
 damp rooms that had been closed through the winter; 
 and one could see Gottlieb's old face look out now and 
 then from the stone window-frames. 
 
 With childish joy, I observed every sign of the coming 
 spring; and as I waited I was filled with feverish unrest, 
 and wandered about, sometimes in the garden, sometimes 
 in the park, and then through the house, following after 
 Gottlieb much more than he wished, as he was at work 
 in the Abbess House, running from room to room, 
 asking about everything, and, wherever possible, making 
 him tell me some interesting tale. 
 
 " How could one go out of such a grand old house to 
 live in a modern dwelling!" I cried. And, in fact, one 
 felt the power, grandeur, and dignity of the great, broad 
 rooms, with their old-fashioned furniture of massive 
 elegance; and the modern villa, with its light effects, 
 seemed poor and insignificant. 
 
 " Yes, child" Gottlieb sometimes called me child when 
 I was alone with him "my lady began head over heels 
 to build as soon as the Herr died, although there was an 
 abundance of room here. She called the villa her widow's 
 residence, thinking, of course, that Herr Gerhardt one
 
 200 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 day would bring a young mistress here. Well, he has not 
 married, but the villa is there." 
 
 I looked around, almost with fear. At this moment 
 it almost seemed as if over there in that dusky room, 
 under the glistening candelabra, the future young mis- 
 tress Gerhardt's wife glided over the shining par- 
 quet. 
 
 " It may yet be, Gottlieb," I said, in a low voice. 
 
 "Eh, what! gracious Fraulein," replied the old man, 
 and pushed up a blind that let a flood of sunshine into 
 the gloomy room, lighting up the gold borders of the 
 dark tapestry. " Herr Gerhardt will not marry; if we 
 wait for that, then " 
 
 The rest was drowned in the noise he was making 
 thumping the red-silk divan; but I caught the name Frau 
 von Riedingen between the blows, and Gottlieb looked 
 as if he had a very naughty child under his hands that 
 he was punishing with a good will. 
 
 " It is a pity," he said, stopping for breath, " when one 
 deserves a good wife, as Herr Gerhardt there, I have 
 finished here. I will let it stand open till this evening. 
 Go out of the draught, child; I am going to open those 
 outside doors," he nodded to me. 
 
 Whenever he looked at me there would come a mild, 
 friendly gleam in his fine, blue-gray eyes that hardly 
 suited the strong expression of the rugged old face. It 
 was like the glint of the autumn sun through the almost 
 leafless trees. 
 
 I walked back through the room, which was furnished 
 with every comfort; but the splendid bronze clock on 
 the chimney had been silent for years. The half-burned 
 wax candles in the girandoles had become yellow and 
 soiled, and the spiders had woven their webs over the 
 carved wooden frame of the high mirror. Gottlieb fol-
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 201 
 
 lowed me, and deliberately locked the last door behind 
 him. Then he took another key in his hand. 
 
 " Now into the lodging-rooms," he said, and went 
 upstairs into the corridor and unlocked one of the high 
 doors, which opened with a creak. I followed without 
 much thought of what I was doing. It was a little 
 room, with green-and-gold embroidered tapestry and a 
 white marble mantel-piece. The silk curtains of the 
 only window were half drawn. In an alcove stood a 
 canopied bed; the white pillows were thrown on in dis- 
 order, and a quilt hung carelessly over the side, touching 
 the floor. On the marble top of a round table that stood 
 in front of a sofa lay numerous things, as if just placed 
 there an ink-stand, a pen-holder, paper with monogram, 
 and envelopes; hair-brushes, gloves, smelling-bottle, and 
 playing-cards. There were several books on the little 
 table by the bed, a riding-whip on the carpet; and over 
 the back of a chair hung a dark uniform coat with bright 
 orange-yellow collar and cuffs; over all hung a faint 
 odor of patchouly. 
 
 " Joachim's room!" I screamed out, seized with a 
 nameless fear as I was brought face to face with the 
 possessions of the man whose life had been brought to 
 so sudden a close. 
 
 Gottlieb stood motionless and looked about the room. 
 " I wouldn't have believed it," he murmured, stooping 
 and picking up the whip. " They turned the key in the 
 door, and no one has cared to look after it since. Every- 
 thing is just as he left it when he went out that morn- 
 ing. They must have all lost their heads." 
 
 And the old man began industriously to put the room 
 in order, like a chamber-maid, and great drops ran 
 down the wrinkled face. 
 
 "Ah, God! when one has seen it so from his boyhood
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 up," said he, after a while, shutting a half-open drawer 
 in the commode, after putting its contents in order; 
 " and now think how it has turned out! Fraulein, there 
 is nothing so hard as when one's own flesh and blood 
 dies! Every evening, when I close my eyes, if I will, I 
 can see him lying before me with the deathly-pale face; 
 and then I can see Herr Robert as I drove him to town 
 that evening, when he gave himself up to justice. 
 Fraulein Lena, I never thought that a man could weep 
 so bitterly; but when he gave me his hand, and I was 
 about to turn back to Wendhusen, he fell on my neck 
 and held me to him as if I were his own father, and he 
 began to weep, and I truly, little one, tears do not 
 come easy from me," he quickly brushed his hand over 
 his eyes; "but it was the pity I felt. I could not help 
 it, it was more than I could bear; and Fraulein Charlotte, 
 she drooped like a flower broken from its stem!" 
 
 I could not speak; the whole terrible catastrophe came 
 clearly before me with painful vividness. Stupefied, I 
 watched the old man as with trembling hands he hung 
 up in the wardrobe the uniform of the handsome, gay 
 young officer. 
 
 "Only for the present," he said, as if in apology. 
 "When the master comes back he can decide what is to 
 be done with the things. I know now how it happens 
 that everything has remained in such chaos. Herr Ger- 
 hardt took his brother's pocket-book out of here. It 
 was the next evening, I brought the light for him; then 
 he bolted the door to the next room from the inside 
 and locked this door here. God knows it is no wonder 
 it was frightful to him to come in here. Probably he 
 thought it was put in order long ago, for he knew I had 
 the keys. These things on the table give me a strange 
 feeling, as if one had just been sitting there and writing.
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 203 
 
 That must not be, it might give some one a great fright; 
 and, gracious Fraulein, will you close that letter port- 
 folio, I would rather not handle it; and this must belong 
 in it!" 
 
 He stooped and picked up a small leaf from the floor 
 and observed it attentively. It was a half-written letter, 
 on heavy, cream-laid paper. Above, in the middle of 
 the sheet, was the delicately written autograph signa- 
 ture, " F. v. R." 
 
 I reached out my hand for it, but Gottlieb paid no 
 attention; his face had become dark-red, and he hastily 
 concealed the paper in his breast-pocket. 
 
 " That is nothing for you, Fraulein Lena; I will give 
 the letter to Frau Berka, or, better yet, to the master him- 
 self." 
 
 Then he muttered some angry words between his 
 teeth and stalked furiously out of the room. He must 
 have read something very exciting to forget me as he 
 did, for he came very near locking me in the room. 
 
 I took Joachim's portfolio and ran hastily down the 
 corridor to give it to Aunt Edith, thankful to escape 
 from the uncomfortable room.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 But I could not find Aunt Edith, and as I came breath- 
 less into the kitchen, Jette informed me that Frau von 
 Demphoff's maid had been there and Aunt Edith had 
 gone back to the villa with her; that Aunt Theresa was 
 ill, and that Aunt Edith had been trying to find me. 
 
 I snatched up a shawl, ran down the length of the 
 corridor, out of doors, and entering the road to the villa, 
 ran as fast as I could over the wet ground. Almost at 
 the same time with me, a little, plump woman reached 
 the villa, the wind whirling her black dress about her 
 like wings. She stood still, as if rooted to the spot. As 
 I came rushing up to her, her glance rested with an 
 expression of measureless astonishment upon me; but 
 to-day I had no eyes for her. What interest had I in 
 Anna? Quietly, I walked past her up the stairway, and, 
 looking back, I saw her turn down the hall on the first 
 floor, to Ferra's room. 
 
 In the carpeted corridor, upstairs, stood the letter- 
 carrier's boy, always so welcome; and, as he saw me, he 
 felt around in his pocket, and drew out a letter which he 
 handed to me. 
 
 " So, gracious Fraulein, that saves my going to the 
 cloister." Then he put on his cap and left me. 
 
 My eyes flew over the address. " From Gerhardt!" 
 I cried aloud; I knew the peculiar, large characters; 
 how often had Aunt Edith sent wood-tickets, direct 
 from his hand, to her poor! 
 
 (204)
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 205 
 
 The blood stormed through my heart as in a con- 
 fused dream. I looked at the large, four-cornered 
 envelope, forgot for the moment where I was and what 
 I did, and, before I knew it, I had pressed my lips to the 
 paper. I stood with my back turned to the stairs. It 
 was very still around me; but not so still that I now 
 heard the light rustle of a woman's dress, and, as I 
 turned around, I saw the little black figure scarcely two 
 steps from me, and her blue eyes took in sharply the 
 letter in my hand, so I involuntarily thrust it into my 
 bosom, and stepped to one side. 
 
 She went past me, and vanished through the door that 
 led to Frau von Demphoff's room, as calmly as if she 
 still belonged to the household. The next moment, 
 however, she came out again, with a dark-red face, and 
 almost ran the length of the corridor and down the 
 stairs, and I heard the glass door of the vestibule clang 
 to behind her. 
 
 Now I tore out my letter, but only a few lines met my 
 eye: 
 
 "NAPLES, March 8, 18 . 
 
 " For over two weeks we have had no letter from my mother! You 
 promised me, Magdalena, to write to me of Charlotte's condition 
 dare I hope that you will fulfill your promise also in this case? Char- 
 lotte is very anxious, and I no less so. Now, sit down at Aunt 
 Edith's writing-desk, take the pen in your hand, and write a few 
 lines, and do not dare to forget to add how everything is going in the 
 old cloister, and if a certain little FrUulein is obedient, and puts out her 
 light at the right time. Unfortunately, in your letters to Charlotte, I 
 have found no information on this point. We have a longing for 
 Wendhusen, in spite of all the splendor of sun and warmth. ' Only 
 for Germany does my heart long,' as Lottchen sings for me, at my 
 entreaty. Yet, the snow still lies on our mountains, and the wind 
 blows cold; but in a few weeks, so I hope, we can pack our trunks! 
 Pray God, that we may find again in Wendhusen all that we left there 
 when we deserted it.
 
 206 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 " Send an answer soon, Magdalena. It is to be hoped our anxiety 
 about mamma is only a fancy. Charlotte sends her warmest love, as 
 does your GERHARDT. 
 
 "P. S. I have received a letter from George." 
 
 That was all. For a moment I looked down on the 
 broad, white page, disappointed at the brief contents. 
 Then I went softly into the next room; through that, 
 into Frau von Demphoff's salon, the same room in which 
 I first stood before her, homesick and trembling before 
 her cold glance. There hung Ferra's portrait, in the 
 same place, above the plants; Joachim's picture, how- 
 ever, was covered with a black curtain. From the 
 adjoining room sounded subdued voices, and now and 
 then a groan from pain. The portieres were let down. 
 I could hear distinctly Aunt Edith's soothing tones. 
 
 " I will not have Ferra come," I recognized the hard, 
 energetic voice of the sick woman; " I wish to be alone, 
 only alone." 
 
 Timidly I went to the curtained door. "Aunt!" I 
 ventured to call. The anxious face of the housemaid 
 looked through the parted folds. 
 
 " Will you ask my Aunt to step here a moment?" I 
 asked, and she came directly. I showed her Gerhardt's 
 letter, which she quietly read through; then she gave it, 
 back to me, and returned to the room. 
 
 " Theresa, would you like Gerhardt to come?" she 
 asked, in a kind, sympathetic voice. 
 
 " No," came back the weary reply, " nobody, nobody; 
 even if I should be worse. Do you hear, Edith? no 
 one." 
 
 Aunt Edith came back again. 
 
 " Do not reply to the letter, dear, until the doctor has 
 been here." 
 
 " Can I help in any way, Auntie?"
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 207 
 
 ' Not now, my darling; come again toward evening. 
 I am almost afraid it will be a nervous fever." 
 
 I went back to the cloister, and there I sat until after 
 sunset, with Gerhardt's letter in my hancjs, reading the 
 lines over and over, even to the two last words in con- 
 clusion, "Your Gerhardt!" 
 
 Before the name Gerhardt was a large C. This 
 letter was crossed out. He had begun to write Cousin, 
 "Cousin Gerhardt," and had changed his mind. 
 
 But why? I used to call him Cousin; but still I found 
 it quite right; it sounded a thousand times nicer, " Your 
 Gerhardt," than "Cousin Gerhardt." I would never 
 again call him anything but " Gerhardt." What wonder- 
 fully delicious things traveled through my head in that 
 quiet hour. Everything that had depressed me, the bur- 
 den I had been carrying, which weighed upon me so at 
 times, slipped entirely off, and for the first time my 
 young heart was flooded with sunshine so blinding that 
 I had to close my eyes before its glow; and outside, the 
 budded branches of the linden knocked on the window- 
 pane. The spring will soon be here! 
 
 Finally I remembered that I promised Aunt Edith to 
 go back to the villa. Slowly I rose to my feet; I would 
 infinitely have preferred to sit there and dream. I 
 stopped in the corridor, before our kitchen door. Jette 
 was singing at the spinning-wheel. How often had I 
 heard it, and scarcely listened to the melancholy folk- 
 song; but now the words arrested my attention. Yes, 
 that was the song that Gerhardt wrote of: 
 
 " Only for Germany does my heart long." 
 
 I leaned against the cold wall and listened to the mel- 
 ody. After a little pause the fresh, young voice began 
 again:
 
 208 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 " There is a land called Italy, 
 Where oranges and citrons bloom. 
 Sing! said the Roman maid, 
 And I sang of our Northern land. 
 Only in Germany, only in Germany, 
 There shall my sweetheart dwell." 
 
 The hot blood rushed to my face; I literally flew out 
 of the house into the cool garden, and, breathless, I 
 arrived at the villa. There I found everything in com- 
 motion; the condition of the sick woman was much 
 worse. At the desk in the salon sat the old physician, 
 writing a prescription. A dish of ice lay on the carpet 
 before the blue porti&res, which moved back and forth as 
 in a strong draught. 
 
 " Where is Aunt Edith?" I asked the maid, who was 
 hurrying through the room. 
 
 " Here, Fraulein Lena. You need not walk lightly; 
 Frau Demphoff is out of her head." 
 
 I went into the room. The luxurious room seemed 
 filled with solemnity, which reflected on the silken cur- 
 tains of the canopied bed; the curtains were thrown 
 back wide, that the cold air which streamed in from the 
 open window could circulate about the bed and reach 
 the feverish face that rested on the white pillows with 
 half-closed eyes. 
 
 Aunt Edith stood at the bedside, laying a fresh cold 
 compress on the head of the invalid. 
 
 The carpet deadened the sound of my steps. She 
 heard me first when I stood beside her, and looked 
 around in a startled way. 
 
 " Go out immediately, Lena," she said, authoritatively, 
 " this is a contagious disease." 
 
 " No, dear Auntie, let me stay. I am young, healthy, 
 and strong; you will surely have rheumatism in this cold 
 room."
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 209 
 
 " Never mind that, child; the young catch infectious 
 diseases quicker than the old go!" 
 
 " No!" I said, decidedly. 
 
 The woman who lay there was Gerhardt's mother, and 
 he was worried about her. How could I go away? 
 
 " Lena!" Aunt Edith's good face was red with anger 
 at my obstinacy. 
 
 " I will not go!" I repeated again, and took from her 
 the compress that she was going to lay on the ice. " Do 
 you think I can not nurse the sick?" 
 
 " I do not doubt that, you willful child; but I know Ger- 
 hardt would never forgive me if I let you run such a risk.'' 
 
 " Gerhardt is very anxious about his mother; I must 
 answer him. What shall I write?" I asked, evasively. 
 "What does the doctor say?" 
 
 " He is not willing that he shall be sent for, on Char- 
 lotte's account; she is not yet recovered. So write to him 
 that his mother is well, but not in the mood to write, 
 or whatever excuse you choose; only go out of here, I 
 beg you." 
 
 " By no means, Aunt Edith," I replied; and turning to 
 the doctor, who just at that moment entered, I said, 
 entreatingly, " I am right to stay, am I not?" 
 
 The old man looked kindly at me. 
 
 " Accept help, Frau Berka; this will not be ended 
 to-day or to-morrow." 
 
 And with a sigh Aunt Edith suffered me to take her 
 place, and quickly and regularly to change the com- 
 presses. 
 
 Aunt Demphoff talked continually softly to herself; 
 there was something very uncomfortable in the half- 
 darkened room. Sometimes she would call out a loud 
 word, and each time Aunt Edith would come in with 
 anxious mien. 
 14
 
 210 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 " It is not true," whispered Aunt Demphoff. "Who 
 saw it? Robert! Robert! and if they all say it, I I will 
 not believe it." 
 
 And then, loud and strong: 
 
 " Bring me the girl! bring her to me, Gerhardt; I will 
 love her!" Aunt Edith shook her head as she listened. 
 
 " She is delirious, child; go to the other side of the 
 room. You need not hear it." 
 
 But I remained where I was. It seemed as if I was 
 chained to the bed of the fever-crazed woman. 
 
 As the night came on, the patient quieted. Aunt 
 Edith lay on the lounge, where she could overlook the 
 bed, and the maid slept in the easy-chair; she had 
 watched the night before. 
 
 "At last Frau Demphoff would not lie down at all," 
 she related to us. 
 
 Outside, a mighty storm was raging and roaring through 
 the tall trees of the park. I listened to its harsh song. 
 Whence had it come? Softly I stepped into the salon 
 and opened a window. A warm breath met me; it was 
 the south wind that thawed the snow on the mountains. 
 Possibly, it had come hither over Italian fields. 
 
 " Have you not seen Gerhardt?" I asked, half aloud, 
 and bent far out into the storm, which tossed my hair 
 wildly about my face; and through all the furor sounded 
 a melody clear as a bell in my ear: 
 
 " There is a land called Italy, 
 Where oranges and citrons bloom. 
 Only in Germany, only in Germany, 
 There shall my sweetheart dwell." 
 
 O, if one could only fly over the mountains, far, far 
 out into the land to the distant South! If the time 
 would only go as fast as the storm ! 
 
 But the time dragged on so slowly, so torturingly.
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 211 
 
 Would it never be day in the sick-room? And when the 
 first rays of the morning sun lightened the shadows of the 
 gloomy place, Aunt Edith sat with tearful eyes beside 
 the bed, holding the hands of the sufferer. What a 
 fearfully tortured human heart was revealed by the 
 disconnected words that came from the parched lips! 
 The maid was sent out of the room, and Aunt Edith 
 consented to let me help her. 
 
 " Edith! Edith, forgive me!" cried out the invalid. " I 
 loved him so I wanted to be everything to him. Were 
 you in Fftlkerode? I was there, too. How pale he 
 looks, the poor boy my darling, my Robert. What is it 
 you lack? You shall have anything, what you will, only 
 do not look at me so; I can not bear it. Joachim, leave 
 me; I have nothing more nothing, nothing!" she 
 shrieked out, and struck her hand on the quilt. " Every- 
 thing is gone, except the diamond button of your 
 father's; that belongs to Gerhardt." 
 
 And so passed the morning. The servants stole about 
 on tiptoe, and there were pale, anxious faces everywhere. 
 The doctor came, and I asked again if Gerhardt should 
 not be informed. 
 
 " Let him be where he is, little Fraulein," replied the 
 old Herr. " With God's help, we will bring her through; 
 and if the worst comes, there is the telegraph. Above 
 all things, do not get Frau von Riedingen here; I had 
 her once at a sick-bed, and I really thought she would 
 be the death of Gerhardt." 
 
 Toward 3 o'clock I went over to the cloister. Ger- 
 hardt must have his answer, and I must lie to him in my 
 first letter! But what did it matter? So, as calmly as 1 
 could, I wrote that everything was going on well in 
 Wendhusen everything in the best of order; that 
 Frau von Demphoff, in Aunt Edith's opinion, was only
 
 212 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 "out of sorts;" that we were all well in the cloister 
 the "certain little Fraulein" and the cats and that at 10 
 o'clock the whole household were sweet and fast asleep, 
 if the storm did not roar too loud around the building; 
 that the snow still lay on the mountains, and Gott- 
 lieb still had to put great beech logs on the fire, but that 
 the snowbells were putting out their first tender shoots, 
 and in the cloister garden all the trees were in full bud. 
 How many times I read over the letter before I put it 
 in the envelope! 
 
 I was very confident it would not be complete without 
 a postscript; so that grew to be longer than the letter itself, 
 It was no wonder that my first letter was somewhat of a 
 failure. I had learned at school to very correctly com- 
 pose a letter to an imaginary person, but to-day I forgot 
 all that, and one thought chased another pell-mell I was 
 writing to Gerhardt. Finally it was sealed with mamma's 
 little seal-ring that I had inherited; now the address, and 
 then Jette must carry it to the post. A mischievous 
 smile stole over the girl's pretty face as I laid, with a sigh, 
 my letter in her hand. I could think of so many things 
 I wished I had written, but it was too late now; and 
 besides I must hasten back to the villa, and relieve Aunt 
 Edith at the sick-bed. 
 
 As I stepped into the vestibule, the voice of a child 
 crying struck my ear from the hall. 
 "Dear mamma! dear mamma!" 
 
 A woman's voice tried in vain to comfort it. Wonder- 
 ing, I drew near. Trunks, satchels, hat-boxes, in great 
 disorder, lay on the floor, and among them kneeled the 
 nurse of little Kurt, trying to soothe the child, who was 
 still in his fur-trimmed coat. 
 
 "Kurt, dearest, are you here?" I cried, hurrying to the 
 little one.
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN 213 
 
 " Kurt is cold; Kurt wants to go to grandmamma," 
 wept the child; and in fact it was bitter cold here. 
 
 "Poor little fellow!" I said, pityingly, picking him up. 
 "When did Frau von Riedingen come?" 
 
 "Just this moment," replied the nurse. "We drove 
 in an open carriage. Madame went directly up to Frau 
 von Demphoff ; I can not leave the child alone, else " 
 
 " Does Frau von Riedingen know her mother is ill?" I 
 asked. 
 
 " Certainly," said the modest little French woman. 
 " Madame packed neck over heels. We were ready in 
 half an hour after the dispatch came; we have traveled 
 all night." 
 
 "A dispatch? Who has telegraphed?" 
 
 " I believe Mademoiselle Anna," she answered. 
 
 " I will send someone to you with warm milk," I said 
 to the child, putting him down; and, meeting a servant 
 on the stairs, I gave the order, and went on up to the 
 sick-room. As I entered, I heard Ferra's voice in the 
 ante-room. 
 
 " I pray you, dear Aunt, to confide the care of mamma 
 to me. It is very noble in you to come here, in spite of 
 all that has happened between you; in fact, I never 
 expected, best of aunts, to ever see you in these rooms 
 again. You must have noticed how I shrank from you 
 as if I had seen a ghost. You have an angel's heart, 
 dearest of aunts; but think how vexed she would be, 
 when she came to consciousness, and " 
 
 I came into the salon during the last words. Ferra 
 had taken off her fur coat and hat, and was tying around 
 her a big, white apron. Heaven knows where she could 
 have got it, in such a short space of time. 
 
 " So I will now go in, Aunt, and I thank you again for 
 what you have done."
 
 214 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 "Your mother, Ferra, has expressed the desire that I 
 should be at her sick-bed," said Aunt Edith, quietly. 
 
 " Mamma? Impossible, Aunt! No; there is a mistake 
 somewhere an inconceivable error." 
 
 "By no means, Ferra;" and now Auntie smiled a little. 
 
 " Then it was the ravings of fever, Aunt. You will 
 not make me believe that my strong, inflexible mother 
 could so suddenly overcome her antipathy of nearly 
 thirty years." 
 
 "She herself can not give you any explanation at pres- 
 ent, Ferra; you will have to be patient, at least for the 
 particulars on this point, until your mother is well." 
 
 Ferra looked at the speaker in amazement. 
 
 " I do not know in fact, Aunt Berka " she stut- 
 tered. 
 
 But Aunt continued: "I think you ought to know, 
 Ferra, that this illness is contagious." 
 
 Ferra turned her beautiful face to Aunt, listening 
 intently. 
 
 "My God! what ails mamma? Probably a nervous 
 trouble?" 
 
 "Your mother has typhoid fever, Ferra." 
 
 "Typhoid! that dreadful illness where all the hair 
 comes out?" she cried, filled with affright; and, stepping 
 back, " O, heavens! the typhoid is contagious. Melanie 
 von Stelten was perfectly bald after that terrible sick- 
 ness! Why, Aunt, this is horrible!" 
 
 She clasped her hands in a helpless way; it looked as 
 if she were ready to fly out of the room, if she could 
 only find some mask for her cowardice. 
 
 " It is to be hoped you will not insist upon carrying 
 out your will," said Aunt Edith, seriously. Only a slight 
 drawing of the upper lip showed how well she under- 
 stood managing her handsome niece. " You must think
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 215 
 
 of your little child," she continued; "we concealed this 
 illness from you for that reason." 
 
 "You are right, dear Aunt," deplored the young 
 
 woman; "situated as I am, I do not dare O, my 
 
 mamma! my poor mamma!" She untied the white 
 apron; then, as she turned to the door, she discovered 
 me. 
 
 " O, Lena, how sorrowful is our meeting!" 
 
 "Your little one is crying down-stairs, Cousin," I 
 said; "he is chilled in the unheated room, and you 
 had better not kiss me; I have been all night and this 
 morning in the sick-room." Hastily Ferra stepped back. 
 
 ' I must see after the child, if I really can be of no 
 service here," she declared, already half behind the por- 
 tibre; " but be sure," she turned her head back again, 
 " if you need my help, to " 
 
 " Very well," nodded Aunt Edith, and Ferra vanished. 
 
 A peculiar smile lay on the face of the old lady. 
 
 " What brought Ferra here in such haste?" she asked 
 me. 
 
 "Anna telegraphed to her, Auntie," I replied, and 
 was hurrying past her to go into the sick-room. 
 
 "Stop!" she said, and stood with outstretched arms 
 before the door; "just one serious word: under no con- 
 sideration will I allow you to remain here; besides, this 
 evening a nurse is coming. I dare not consent to your 
 staying here, for I promised Gerhardt to care for you and 
 your health, and I will not take the responsibility of risk- 
 ing this infectious disease." 
 
 " Auntie," I cried, throwing my arms around her 
 neck, " Gerhardt will not be angry, I know; it is his 
 mother that I want to care for." 
 
 " That does not matter; you must go." 
 
 But "
 
 216 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 "No but; in five minutes you must be out of this 
 room." 
 
 Almost weeping, I went. What should I do over there, 
 alone, in the old cloister? As I went down the stairs I 
 heard Ferra's scolding voice. 
 
 " It was absurd in you to telegraph me, and frighten 
 me to death!" 
 
 A servant was carrying some tea and light refreshment 
 into the room, and through the opening of the door I 
 saw Anna standing before the young woman. 
 
 " I suppose you can at least tell me," she continued, 
 still more angry, " what I want to know. I have seen 
 that they are up there; but how came "
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 I hurried out and away, as fast as I could, to the clois- 
 ter, and went back and forth restlessly through the 
 rooms. It was so lonely here; only Minka kept me 
 company and walked along behind me, and looked at 
 me as if she would ask where her mistress was. 
 
 I would so gladly, so willingly, have stayed over there 
 with his mother! And, as the darkness of night came 
 on, I could not contain myself any longer, and again ran 
 back to the villa. Ferra's windows were brightly 
 lighted. In the vestibule, Frau von Demphoff's maid 
 came toward me. 
 
 " How is it above?" I asked her. 
 
 "Worse! gracious Fraulein. She raves and shrieks till 
 one can hear her all over the house. The doctor is 
 going to stay all night, and the nurse has come. Do not 
 go up, Frau Berka has forbidden it; under no circum- 
 stances were you to go in." 
 
 I turned around, sad and depressed. Should I go 
 back to the cloister? No, I could not stay there alone; 
 and before I really knew what I did, I was standing in 
 Ferra's room. It was warm and comfortable in the 
 small but elegant apartment, with its pale-blue decora- 
 tions. Dainty chairs stood around a small marble table; 
 a thick, richly-hued carpet covered the floor; in the 
 corners of the room were grouped tropical plants and 
 azaleas, and out of the luxuriant foliage gleamed marble 
 figures; the whole bathed in the softened light from the 
 shaded lamp swinging from the ceiling.
 
 218 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 I opened wide my eyes. It was the first time that I 
 had seen Ferra's " widow's refuge;" the first glimpse I 
 had ever had of the apartments of a fashionable woman. 
 
 Charlotte's room was so different so simple, so girl- 
 ish, with its rose-flowered cretonne furniture and hang- 
 ings; the sewing-stand by the window; the flowering 
 plants on the balcony, from which the little birds came 
 so confidingly and hopped about on the sill, picking up 
 the bits of bread put there for them. 
 
 Timidly I crossed this reception-room, and knocked 
 on the door, behind which I heard Ferra speaking. 
 
 " Mamma! somebody knocks," cried Kurt's voice, and 
 directly an unskillful baby hand with difficulty opened 
 the door. 
 
 " Dare I come in?" I asked. 
 
 I expected to see Ferra sitting in the sofa-corner, 
 weeping for very anxiety over her sick mother, as I had 
 done not long before. I stood still with amazement. 
 It was a picture for an artist before me; but it did, not 
 belong in a house where a human life was wrestling with 
 death. 
 
 There, on a sofa that had been drawn up before the 
 fire, lay Ferra. She had on a white cashmere wrapper, 
 and her wonderful golden hair hung down, unconfined 
 and golden, till it touched the green Smyrna rug. She 
 was shading her face with a hand screen; the wide, flow- 
 ing sleeve had fallen back, and the beautiful arm had 
 the marble whiteness of a statue. There was a roguish 
 expression on the lovely face, and evident amusement 
 lay under the long lids as she looked down on the young 
 girl kneeling before her, who stretched her delicate 
 hands entreatingly toward her. 
 
 They did not see me, either of them, and Ferra con- 
 tinued:
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 219 
 
 " Do not worry, Melanie; I can not show it to you 
 yet; better take the proofs from Gieson; see it through, 
 and take my advice " 
 
 "Mamma, Lena is here!" interrupted the little boy, 
 and pulled the blonde hair energetically. Ferra raised 
 up quickly, and looked at me in surprise. 
 
 "Why, Lena! what is the matter?" she asked; "has 
 anything happened?" 
 
 The young lady also rose up and stood near the sofa, 
 observing me with evident astonishment. She wore a 
 riding-habit that fitted perfectly the slender, graceful 
 figure; a pale face, with regular features, and a pair of 
 almost melancholy brown eyes. 
 
 " Nothing, Ferra," I stammered. " Forgive me that 
 I disturbed you; but I was so afraid, alone in the old 
 cloister." 
 
 " My dear child," said Ferra, languidly, " it is impos- 
 sible for you to be quartered here; you must see that 
 yourself. Aunt has kindly sacrificed herself to be with 
 mamma." 
 
 "O no, Ferra!" I cried, and threw back my head; " I 
 did not mean that. I thought you would be anxious 
 about your mother, and I could help you to drive away 
 a lonely hour as well as myself; and if I am here, I can 
 ask often how she is." 
 
 " My cousin, Magdalena von Demphoff," informed 
 Ferra, to the questioning glance of the young woman; 
 " Friiulein von Stelten." 
 
 " My dear Ferra," said the latter, " what an absurd 
 creature you are! You made me come on the gallop, a 
 mile and a half, here, in this storm, and yet you have 
 the nicest company one could wish quite the type of 
 Allenberg's Gypsy Maiden that made such a. furor in the 
 exhibition."
 
 220 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 Ferra shrugged her shoulders impatiently. 
 
 " If you are going to stay, Lena, at least close the 
 door through which you just entered." 
 
 " Of course she will stay!" decided Melanie von Stel- 
 ten. " Now you have come, little FrSulein von Demp- 
 hoff, I must go in a moment; and you need not be alone, 
 Ferra." 
 
 " Will you really not stay, Melanie?" 
 
 " Surely not; I did not tell anyone at home where I 
 was going. Hark!" She nodded her head toward the 
 window. " There comes Jean with the horses." 
 
 She picked up a jaunty felt hat, pressed it coquettishly 
 on the brown braids, and drew on a fur-trimmed velvet 
 jacket. 
 
 " Good-bye, Ferra Mia," she said, and threw her arms 
 around the neck of the young woman in the white cash- 
 mere ndgligd. "As soon as I can, I will come again to 
 inquire after your mother. I hope from my heart that 
 she will soon be better. Does your brother know of the 
 illness? Is he coming?" 
 
 "Yes," said Ferra, returning the kiss of the fresh lips 
 that lightly touched her forehead. " Would you believe 
 it! I had the dispatch all ready when the doctor literally 
 tore it out of my hands; now I wash my hands Ger- 
 hardt will be angry." 
 
 "Do not worry," replied Melanie; "the old doctor 
 can judge whether and when Gerhardt's presence is nec- 
 essary; he will think of him and of Charlotte." 
 
 They had reached the door with these words, and 
 Melanie von Stelten bent down to Kurt. 
 
 " Adieu, little one," she said, and stroked the fair hair 
 of the child. In the open door she stopped and turned 
 around. " Adieu, Fraulein von Demphoff ;" it had a 
 friendly ring. "I hope I shall have the pleasure of
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 221 
 
 seeing you often here, and 'if you take a drive over to 
 Nissen, do not pass us by." 
 
 Before I could thank her, the door had closed behind 
 both the slender figures; then the little one hurried 
 after them, and I stood alone in Ferra's salon. Over all, 
 deep, dark-green; the soft-green giant fern-leaf pattern 
 woven through the carpet that covered the entire floor; 
 fancy tables of delicate workmanship standing about; 
 stuffed easy-chairs; there a comfortable divan for two, 
 among a group of Southern palms; near by, a writing- 
 desk with a thousand pretty trifles; and above, a life- 
 size photograph of a stately officer in a handsome 
 frame. In the opposite corner, but standing on an easel 
 of dark wood, was Joachim's portrait. 
 
 I went up to it and gazed at the handsome face; but, 
 as I observed him closely, I saw again the dissolute, vain 
 expression of the black eyes, and I shook my head in 
 gentle condemnation. 
 
 " Well?" questioned Ferra's voice behind me. 
 
 I turned around. 
 
 " I am going directly," I said. " I was only waiting 
 for Fraulein von Stelten to go." 
 
 "Heavens! what is your hurry? Drink tea with me; 
 I ordered it at 8 o'clock. I am naturally tired from the 
 journey. Apropos, how are you pleased with Melanie von 
 Stelten?" 
 
 She spoke lightly, leading her boy by the hand to the 
 adjoining room, which door she opened. 
 
 "Mademoiselle!" she called, in her ringing voice; 
 " Kurt is tired; put him to bed." 
 
 And, kissing the child indifferently, she came back. 
 
 " Isn't she lovely?" she volunteered. 
 
 "Yes, I find her charming; so natural and so kindly." 
 
 Ferra nodded. " Truly," she said, carelessly. " She
 
 223 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 is the only one that I would willingly have for a sister- 
 in-law, if there must be a sister-in-law." 
 
 Had I heard aright? My hand went suddenly to my 
 heart; it was as if a sharp-pointed iron had entered there. 
 I had never learned how to feign, and the two great 
 eyes that were keenly scrutinizing me from under the 
 long lids could not fail to see that I was seized as with a 
 vertigo, as I looked into the yawning gulf that had so 
 suddenly opened at my feet. 
 
 "You seem quite upset, Lena. But you know the 
 unexpected often happens, and Italy matured the fruit 
 that never would have ripened here. Melanie was six 
 weeks in Venice and Rome with her aunt, and she spent 
 almost every day with Gerhardt and Lottchen. Has 
 not Charlotte written you about it? No? That is best, 
 after all; one must not speak much of such things." 
 
 As from a far distance these words rang in my ear, 
 and such a deadly stillness had taken possession of me 
 that I almost shrank from the sound of my own voice. 
 
 " I am very glad that Gerhardt a sweet, lovely 
 
 woman " The last words would not pass my lips. I 
 
 set my teeth together as with extreme bodily pain, and 
 was silent. 
 
 "And she has nearly half a million; and that is the 
 principal thing, my child." 
 
 " No, Ferra!" I found my voice now; "not for Ger- 
 hardt, surely!" 
 
 She laughed merrily. 
 
 "You silly one! do you believe Gerhardt would be so 
 foolish, in his condition, as to burden himself with a poor 
 wife? Think once, how many there are in Wendhusen to 
 be fed and clothed. There is mamma, whose private 
 income has been all used up through Joachim's extrava- 
 gance; here am I, whose capital has long since passed
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 223 
 
 out of existence, except some bonds that I can not 
 realize upon. Faugh!" she said, shaking herself, "there 
 is Kurt and Aunt Edith, and beside a host of poor rela- 
 tions that hang on Gerhardt like chains. What could he 
 do? His pecuniary burden would not permit him to 
 remain unmarried enfin. He sought a rich wife; God 
 be thanked that it is at least Melanie." 
 
 " He does not love her, Ferra!" I stammered. 
 
 "Child! love? Naturally he loves her; anyone would 
 show great ardor when suing for a beautiful, rich girl, 
 and I said Gerhardt's wife must be rich. Did you think, 
 child" (she took a letter from the table and handed it 
 over to me), " that the deepest well would not finally be 
 empty if one drew out of it in this manner?" 
 
 I threw an unsteady glance on the paper; then my 
 eyes were glued fast to one place. It was a letter from 
 my guardian to Gerhardt, containing the request that 
 he would pay 150 thalers that my mother borrowed, 
 during the last days of her life, of her landlord, as the 
 man needed the money badly. 
 
 " Ferra, will you excuse me if I go?" I said, with diffi- 
 culty, and turned to the door. The room and everything 
 in it were dancing in whirling circles before my eyes. 
 Staggering, I walked over the soft carpet, and out into 
 the cold evening air, through the dark park. Above me 
 roared the storm, and the branches shook over my head; 
 the wind tore from me the shawl that I had wrapped 
 myself in, but I heeded it not. To this day I do not 
 know how I reached my room and felt for my bed in 
 the darkness. There I lay in the deep stillness; I felt 
 more wretched, more forsaken, than ever before in my 
 life. 
 
 The first clear feeling was a burning shame for the 
 foolish dream I had indulged in. How had it been
 
 224 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 possible for me to take Cousin Gerhardt's sympathy for 
 something else? The beautiful woman in the riding- 
 habit rose before my eyes, and at the same time the small, 
 dark, childish-looking girl. O, how ashamed I felt! He 
 must have read in every line of my letter that I thought 
 only of him! 
 
 That was the reason he did not write as he promised; 
 he had no time to give to another. Only now, now that 
 she was in Germany again, had he a longing for Wend- 
 husen. 
 
 And then I saw his eyes, heard his soft voice. And 
 he had charged Aunt Edith so earnestly to watch over 
 and care for me! But it was only sympathy for the waif 
 who had fallen to his guardianship. He was so kind, as 
 Ferra said. And if he did not love her? If he was to 
 marry her because she was a rich woman horrible! 
 And George and I, we were helping on such a deed, 
 because of the additional expense we were to him. And 
 then mamma's debt! O, I could see how it had all come. 
 There was such a long time she could not work; the 
 winter was at hand, coal and wood to be bought. Yes, 
 yes, how could she help it? O, mother, mother! better 
 that we had frozen, than for Ferra to have that letter in 
 her hand to-day she who never knew what it was to 
 go to bed cold and hungry! And how often had my 
 poor mother done this! If she had known that an inmate 
 of Wendhusen would have to pay her indebtedness, she 
 would rather have died on the spot than to have incurred 
 the obligation. I sat up in bed. " No," I said, half 
 aloud, " I can not bear it rather entire strangers. I can 
 support myself. Mademoiselle, with Ferra, is no stronger 
 than I she has a situation. I must leave here; to stay 
 is like death. Good as Gerhardt is, I will not have his 
 pity; I do not need it."
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 225 
 
 Shaking with nervousness, I got up, and with trembling 
 hands I lighted my lamp and went into Aunt Edith's 
 room, opened the newspaper and sought the advertise- 
 ments. A proud defiance had taken possession of me. 
 Dry-eyed I glanced down the columns. There were 
 mostly women seeking places: 
 
 " A single, well-educated lady desired a situation as 
 agent." "A Christian young woman wished to devote her- 
 self to the care of an invalid." " An old, experienced 
 girl, as housekeeper." And so on. 
 
 What a host of such that must earn their daily bread! 
 As I was about laying down the paper, my eyes fell on 
 the very last notice in the column: "Wanted, by April 
 ist, a young girl, as governess to two children, five and 
 six years of age; must be mistress of the French lan- 
 guage, and have sufficient knowledge of music to be able 
 to instruct in the first rudiments," et ccetera. 
 
 By April ist! that suited me. Without stopping to 
 think, I brought pen and ink, and wrote. The writing was 
 bad, and in my excitement I often duplicated my words 
 and had to cross them out, so it was not a letter comme il 
 faut that lay before me; but, in spite of its defects, I 
 sealed and directed it, and hid it in my commode. The 
 rain was pouring down in a flood outside, and made 
 going to the post impossible, and Jette must not see the 
 letter. 
 
 In a bitter, defiant temper, I went to bed. Humiliated 
 to the core of my heart, sleepless, with aching head, I 
 lay upon the old, canopied bed and stared out into the 
 darkness. Stormily beat the blood in my veins, and my 
 hands were fast locked one in the other. I thought 
 over my first coming how, the first time I lay in this bed, 
 and how often since a dear, old face had bent down to me 
 and given me my good-night kiss. 
 15
 
 226 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 Everything passed before my mental vision Char- 
 lotte's sweet friendliness, and his goodness; the dear, 
 lonely cloister garden and now the time was not far 
 distant when I should desert it all! 
 
 O, I knew Aunt Edith would be sorry when I was 
 gone, and Charlotte would weep, and Gerhardt I seemed 
 to hear his voice: " You are a foolish little woman, Lena 
 you must not go." Then my heart would cry out: 
 " I will not have your pity, when I believed I had some- 
 thing different; I can not stay here, because I believed 
 you loved me, Gerhardt! I can not see you near her 
 near Melanie who is a thousand times better and 
 worthier than I. I should die if you demanded it." But 
 my mouth must be silent, and I would go out of this 
 house, an obstinate, defiant, ungrateful creature, not 
 worthy that a hand should be stretched out to detain 
 me. Yes, it was best that I went before he returned 
 before I saw Charlotte again. 
 
 O, now I understood it all! Aunt Edith, and Char- 
 lotte, and over there that sick, fever-tossed woman they 
 all had to suffer in their love. Now I understood the 
 long years of bitterness of Gerhardt's mother, and com- 
 prehended how it was that she could not see the woman 
 who was loved by the man she adored. Was not Char- 
 lotte, in comparison to me, a thousand times to be envied? 
 
 Toward morning I fell asleep, and was awakened by a 
 noise in Aunt's sleeping-room. At first a heavy weight 
 lay upon me. I could not think what it was; then came, 
 with one blow, remembrance, and with it came back all 
 the bitterness. 
 
 I sat up in bed and pushed back the hair from my 
 forehead, as Aunt Edith's pale face appeared in the 
 door-way. 
 
 " Now, Lena, I must scold you to-day," she said, es
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 227 
 
 nestly; "you did not feed the cats; the beasts literally 
 fell upon me. Where were your thoughts, child?" 
 
 She came toward the bed as she spoke, and looked at 
 me. 
 
 " Are you ill?" she said, anxiously, and seized my hot 
 hands. 
 
 I shook my head; "O no, quite well, Auntie dear;" 
 but I felt a leaden weight in my limbs, and no desire to 
 move. 
 
 " Things are very bad, yonder, Magdalena," said Aunt 
 Edith, observing me anxiously meanwhile. "I came 
 over to put on a more comfortable dress. I have not 
 been able to get any rest all night. She has talked and 
 screamed for hours at a time. Tina and Sister Agnes 
 could hardly hold her in bed; she was determined to go 
 to Robert." 
 
 Aunt Edith brushed two great drops from her eyes. 
 
 " Now, pray heaven that you may not be ill, my dar- 
 ling. Ah, God! if only her strength will hold out till 
 Gerhardt comes! The dispatch left at dawn this morn- 
 ing." 
 
 " The dispatch! Gerhardt coming?" I cried, and, as if 
 electrified, I sprang out of bed. 
 
 "Lena! Lena! you are ill?" asserted Aunt Edith, and 
 helped my trembling hands to put on my dress. 
 
 " No, no, Aunt; when can he be here?" 
 
 "Day after to-morrow evening, child." 
 
 " Day after to-morrow evening!" 
 
 I breathed a sigh of relief. 
 
 " I am quite well, Auntie," I said, reassuringly, to the 
 old lady; "rely upon that, and do not be anxious. Go 
 over, and I will come to and fro, and ask how matters 
 are." 
 
 She went. Meditating, I sat in my room. Minka
 
 228 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 came over to me and looked at me, mewing, and 
 rubbed herself against my dress. She felt no resent- 
 ment because I had let her go hungry. Two poor 
 women came for their weekly allowance. With a half 
 side glance, one said: 
 
 " She be grievin' hersel' for the Frau that be nearer 
 dead than alive. Yesterday there be a warnin' the glass 
 fell from the nail." 
 
 And the other nodded her head confirmingly. Every- 
 thing on that day remains in my remembrance, even that 
 little scene. 
 
 At noon I went over to the villa, but in a roundabout 
 way, by way of the town. A moment I lingered at the 
 letter-box; the letter deciding my fate glided in. I had 
 not given my address, but that of Christiana. When 
 the answer came, I would no longer be here. 
 
 As I stepped through the avenue that led directly to 
 the villa, I saw, on the gravel plat, two horses being led 
 around on one a lady's saddle and the groom that 
 walked between the beasts threw, now and then, shy 
 glances to the windows of the upper story. I felt a 
 clutch at my heart. Surely, Melanie von Stelten was 
 here to inquire after Gerhardt's mother her Gerhardt; 
 and then, in another moment, I saw her with Ferra, arm 
 in arm, going slowly around the grass plat. Ferra's 
 head was lowered, and Melanie appeared to be talking 
 confidentially with her. The green veil of her little hat 
 fluttered wantonly about the fine face, which to-day 
 had the coloring of the apple-blossom. 
 
 " Do not lose courage, dearest Ferra; the dear God can 
 yet help," she said, her clear voice reaching me dis- 
 tinctly, "even to the last moment." 
 
 I followed the path on the other side of the circle, and 
 reached the house without their observing me.
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 229 
 
 At my question, "How is she?" they said, "Worse 
 very critical!" 
 
 What could I do? I turned, and went out of the 
 opposite door. Here stood, in summer, the orangery 
 around the small marble basin before the entrance. 
 Charlotte's window overlooked the spot, and from there 
 the eye could rove far over the trees of the park, away 
 to the mountains, beyond which lay Folkerode. I 
 remained standing. What would come of it all to those 
 two? How could they weather life with that everlasting 
 longing in their hearts? But they knew, at least, they 
 had each other's love; they had read it in each other's 
 eyes; their lips had spoken it and I? 
 
 " So deep in thought, Fraulein von Demphoff?" asked 
 a clear voice. 
 
 I started; there she stood, the charming face looking 
 so kindly at me. 
 
 " Did you know an answer had come from your 
 cousin? He expects to be here to-morrow evening; it 
 will be making very quick time. Ferra has just carried 
 the dispatch up to Frau Berka. Thank heaven, he is 
 coming, for Ferra would surely have lost her head if 
 the worst had happened." 
 
 She looked sad as she spoke these words, and her 
 eyes were moist. 
 
 " I have a great respect for that poor, sick woman up 
 there," she continued, " so strong and severe, holding 
 herself so aloof from those who would approach her, 
 and yet her native goodness of heart discernible 
 through it all. She has the same pure-gold, honorable 
 character as Gerhardt Demphoff." 
 
 "Yes, Gerhardt is very good," I said, lightly. 
 
 "Only good?" she returned, laughing; "more than 
 that, Fraulein von Demphoff a thousand times more. I
 
 230 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 have known him ever since I can remember. He is a 
 man with few equals, honest, faithful a true nobleman, 
 as he should be; at the same time, with a tenderness, a 
 gentleness if you had seen his care of Charlotte in 
 Italy!" 
 
 "O, I know it, Fraulein von Stelten," I interrupted; 
 " no one has more reason to extol his goodness than my 
 brother and I." 
 
 The young lady looked down at me with a peculiar 
 expression in her eyes. I had spoken the words in a 
 tone new to her. She did not reply, but occupied her- 
 self with pushing a little stone about on the granite 
 steps with her riding-whip. 
 
 "Are you not glad that Charlotte is coming back 
 again?" she asked, finally. 
 
 "Yes, indeed, if only the occasion were less sad. I 
 feel so sorry for her. In what anxiety she is traveling 
 now!" 
 
 " There is a dark shadow over Wendhusen/' said 
 Melanie von Stelten; "for years there has been no 
 pleasure there. O, I have shared it all! First, the death 
 of the old gentleman; then, Gerhardt's long, long illness; 
 Ferra's unhappy marriage with Riedingen, and his sud- 
 den death; the terrible misfortune of Joachim " (great 
 tears stood in the sweet, brown eyes), " and to-day or 
 to-morrow the mother may die." 
 
 She sat down on one of the broad blocks which 
 formed the support of the railing of the steps, and held, 
 in summer, the tubs of orange and pomegranate trees. 
 
 " She loves him!" kept ringing in my heart, and I 
 walked past her down the steps. There was such keen 
 sorrow in my breast, I longed to be alone. At the bend 
 of the path I turned around. She still sat there, and 
 was following me with her gaze. She looked indescrib-
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 231 
 
 ably charming, with the graceful poise of the fine head. 
 That I was unhappy, was no fault of hers. 
 
 "For shame, Lena! how hateful you are!" I scolded 
 myself, and went back to her. 
 
 " Forgive me, Fraulein von Stelten; I was rude, and 
 forgot to say adieu." 
 
 She seized my offered hand, and held it close in her 
 own. 
 
 " Adieu, Fraulein Magdalena! It is only natural that 
 one in such hours should have no thought for every-day 
 things. I must also go home. I will come again this 
 evening, I live so near." 
 
 I walked away, not to the cloister, but far into the 
 park. It was a spring day, so warm and golden, so 
 cloudless and blue, that one could think all the buds of 
 the trees must burst forth at one time, and spread them- 
 selves as a green veil over the woods. High above in 
 the blue air flew a bird of prey; ever higher and higher 
 he drew his circle, till at last he swam as a mere speck 
 
 in the ether. 
 
 ' ' There flew a wild falcon 
 High above me away!" 
 
 Sounded in my ear Charlotte's song! How happy 
 she was when she sang it, and yet her happiness had 
 flown away like the falcon; it seemed as if fair fortune 
 would have nothing to do with Wendhusen and the peo- 
 ple who dwelt there. 
 
 A luminous green shimmer lay over the grass, and 
 under the trees grew all kinds of pretty wild things 
 leaves of the wood-sorrel, anemones, and the white 
 blooms of the wild snowbells, with their gold-colored 
 tips. How wonderful a spring here must be! 
 
 Could George come here if I went away? O, surely; 
 I would write to Gerhardt and ask him; but I must go
 
 232 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 away before he returned to-morrow! I would go to 
 Christiana. I had enough money for my traveling 
 expenses. But how to go the long distance to the rail- 
 road station? Gottlieb? 
 
 He brought me here; he would do it, possibly. I 
 could beg him to do so; I must find some excuse 
 George is ill? God forbid! I retracted my sinful lie. 
 No, I know not what, but something would suggest 
 itself; only I must go away from here at any price.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 And again a night was past, and a new day; and 
 deeper sank the black shadow of death over the hcuse 
 in the park. I did not see Aunt Edith when I went 
 over at twilight to inquire. 
 
 On the upper step of the stairway sat Ferra, weeping, 
 with her child asleep in her lap. 
 
 "O, Lena!" she cried, and caught hold of my dress, 
 " I am so afraid down there in my rooms! I am not 
 superstitious, but to be so alone, and to know mamma is 
 dying! And there hangs Riedingen's picture, and there 
 Joachim's! I implore you, stay with me!" Ferra had a 
 wonderful talent of being able with one word to blot 
 out entirely a bad impression. Mechanically, I allowed 
 myself to be drawn down by her side and listen to 
 her sobs. 
 
 And so we sat side by side; she had my hand fast in 
 her own, and the child lay asleep on her lap. The serv- 
 ants went to and fro noiselessly; they were putting 
 Gerhardt's and Charlotte's rooms in order. Finally, 
 Mademoiselle was called, and the little boy handed over 
 to her care; Ferra wanted to take a look into the rooms 
 herself. 
 
 " Soon everything will be changed here," she whis- 
 pered. " I do not think my brother will remain here, in 
 case the dear God should take mamma from us; he will 
 move into the old manor house." 
 
 " Even if Gerhardt should marry, Ferra?" 
 
 (233)
 
 234 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 She turned around and looked at me with an almost 
 frightened look. 
 
 " O yes; you are right," she replied, as if recollecting 
 herself; "one forgets in such dark days all else but the 
 one great fact;" and, turning to the servant who came 
 out from the sick-room, she asked: 
 
 " How is she, Tina?" 
 
 " She is just alive, gracious Frau," said the girl, begin- 
 ning to weep. " She neither hears nor feels anything 
 more. Ah, it is too dreadful!" 
 
 Involuntarily, I clasped my hands. " Dear God," I 
 begged, "bring her back to health; let her yet know joy 
 in life. After such hard, sorrowful discipline, give her 
 happiness." 
 
 Ferra began walking up and down the corridor, crying 
 and wringing her hands. " O, my God! my God! This 
 excitement will kill me! O, if it were only over!" There 
 was something childish and disagreeable in her noisy grief. 
 
 And again another morning's sun shone into the sick- 
 room, and there was no change in the condition of the 
 suffering woman. A dispatch had come from Gerhardt, 
 directing that the carriage be sent to the mid-day train. 
 I went back to the cloister. I had had Aunt Edith 
 called out, and had cried on her neck. She had com- 
 forted me in her tender way. She did not know for 
 what cause I was so inconsolable. 
 
 Then I saw from my window the carriage return which 
 brought the brother and sister, and both faces scanned 
 our windows as they flew past. I stood behind the cur- 
 tains, and as the carriage vanished from my sight, I 
 buried my face in my hands, and a wild, hot pain seized 
 me. Could I go from here? Had I the strength? Was 
 it not beyond me, after all? No, I must go! I must not 
 be weak! And with trembling hands I put some things
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 235 
 
 in the traveling-bag that I once before had packed with 
 such a heavy heart to come here. After the sun had set 
 I called Jette and sent her for Gottlieb. The old man 
 looked at me in surprise as he entered the room. 
 
 " What was it you wished, Fraulein?" he asked, sym- 
 pathetically, as he saw my wet eyes. 
 
 I went close up to him and laid my head on his 
 rough cloth coat. 
 
 " Gottlieb, you have always been good to me," I 
 began, and again the tears overflowed. 
 
 " Yes, little one, I have tried to be so from the first 
 hour when I saw you peering about so timid and help- 
 less at the station; and I said to myself, there and then, 
 that I would have an eye on that little doll. That is 
 true, gracious Fraulein, and so I have always looked 
 after you." 
 
 I nodded. 
 
 " And, Gottlieb, to-day you must take me away again," 
 I stammered. " I must go to B . I have received a 
 letter to-day, but no one must know of it, Gottlieb! 
 Remember, this evening at 8 o'clock. You can wait at 
 the corner of the park; you need not drive to the door." 
 
 "Thunder and bombshells! Fraulein, that don't take 
 it amiss but this is strange!" exclaimed the old man, 
 and bent over to look in my face. 
 
 I turned my head away. 
 
 " It is nothing wrong, Gottlieb," I protested. " O, 
 do not refuse me, I beg!" 
 
 "Well, well!" he grumbled. "What business have I 
 to question? But 'hm you know, Fraulein, how it 
 went with me once before." 
 
 " O, but that was something quite different, dear 
 Gottlieb, truly! My guardian wishes me to come to 
 him," I stuttered.
 
 236 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 " Very well, I will not fail you, Fraulein, but 'hm 8 
 o'clock, at the corner of the park? Great heavens? 
 exactly as it was before!" he muttered, shaking his head 
 as he left the room. 
 
 I ran after him into the corridor. 
 
 " Gottlieb, do you know how it is over there?" I asked, 
 anxiously. 
 
 "Bad, very bad, Fraulein, "he answered, in alow voice. 
 " Ah, heavens! how it grieved me to see Fraulein Char- 
 lotte! She will not leave the bed; she moans and prays 
 the dear God not to take too much from her." 
 
 I went back. It seemed to me my heart would break. 
 
 Whence do tears come? and what a magic they exer- 
 cise! 
 
 Around each piece of furniture in the comfortable old 
 room that I saw through a mist of tears was woven a 
 silver sheen; never before had everything seemed so 
 beautiful, so dear, as now. It seemed to me I could 
 not leave it all, as if I were being driven out of Paradise. 
 
 I stood before the empty window-place, Aunt Edith's 
 corner, and lovingly touched and said good-bye to the 
 old-fashioned sewing utensils and trifles that her hands 
 had so often used. I poured fresh milk in the saucers of 
 her pets, and gave drink to the flowers I never should 
 see them again. 
 
 Then it dawned upon me, I must write to Aunt Edith, 
 that she should not seek for me in vain. Hesitatingly, 
 I took up my pen. I found it difficult at first to know 
 how to justify my intention. Finally the note was fin- 
 ished, and I pushed it under the pin-cushion; and then I 
 sat and waited for the dark. 
 
 With crimson hues sank the sun to rest, filling the 
 room with rosy light. The clock on the chimney-piece 
 struck seven; one more hour under this roof! And on it
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 237 
 
 ticked, stringing seconds to minutes; unceasingly moved 
 the pointer slowly round the circle. 
 
 "I can not go!" I wailed to myself. "You must! 
 You must!" ticked the clock; and Melanie's lovely face 
 rose up before me, her soft eyes looked into mine. " He 
 is so good, so noble!" whispered her lips. No, I would 
 not see him again. I would not be so unhappy as that 
 dying woman over there had been made in her love. 
 
 The clock struck eight; it was almost dark. I sprang 
 up and put on my hat and mantle, and, with my travel- 
 ing-bag in my hand, I hurried out of the room. In the 
 corridor I stopped; Minka had followed me; I picked 
 her up, and pressed my wet eyes in the soft, velvety fur; 
 then I carried her back into the room. 
 
 With double haste I flew down the stairs. I met no 
 one on my way. A cool breeze struck my face outside, 
 and with a shiver I drew my wrap about me. 
 
 There, in the gloom, I recognized the wagon, and Gott- 
 lieb stood waiting, as agreed upon. It was his old, tired 
 horse; it was the same rickety vehicle in which I came, 
 long months ago. I climbed in; slowly moved on the 
 beast, and slowly the old cloister disappeared behind me, 
 and with it everything everything! 
 
 How slowly the wagon rolled on! The wheels creaked 
 and groaned. If we could only get out of the park unseen ! 
 
 "Gottlieb, drive faster!" I begged, trembling in every 
 limb. I felt as if we were committing a crime. 
 
 " But, Friiulein, the poor old rascal has been in the field 
 all day, and is tired." 
 
 I bent far out. There blinked to me the lights from the 
 windows in the villa; there a soul was loosing itself from 
 a weak body; there were tears and prayers! In such 
 sorrow they would not miss me not even Aunt Edith 
 and Charlotte.
 
 238 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 And as the windows were lost in the distance behind 
 me, and I looked out into the dark night, a wild, rebell- 
 ious feeling filled my heart. No, no, I can not go! I 
 stretched my arms out to Gottlieb, but no sound came 
 to my lips. 
 
 " Halt!" said a well-known voice near me. 
 
 The horse stopped instantly, and a tall, dark figure 
 opened the carriage door. 
 
 " Get out, Magdalena," it said, quietly. 
 
 A hand clasped mine. Devoid of will, I obeyed the 
 command. 
 
 "Turn around, Gottlieb," said Gerhardt, at the same 
 time putting his arm around me and holding me close 
 to him. Motionless, he remained so until the carriage 
 turned, and, much quicker than it came, disappeared 
 around the bend of the road. 
 
 And now we stood alone at the entrance to the park. 
 My tears had ceased to flow. I hid my face in my 
 hands how I felt at that moment I can not describe. 
 
 " Magdalena!" came low and sweet in my ear, " was it 
 right of you now, just at this time, to wish to desert me? 
 Could this same mouth give the command for departure 
 that once spoke so sweetly of a love that, in need and 
 death, in pain and joy, would be steadfast?" 
 
 "O, Gerhardt, Gerhardt!" I stammered. "I leave 
 me! what would she Melanie " 
 
 "Magdalena!" he bent down to me; "who has been 
 talking to you?" 
 
 I did not answer. 
 
 "Child, have you not felt that my whole heart 
 remained with you in Wendhusen? with you, Magda- 
 lena? And yet you have believed that I " 
 
 "No, no!" I cried out, in rapturous joy, and threw my 
 arms around the neck of my lover. " I believe nothing
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 239 
 
 more, only that I love you that I must have died had 
 I gone away!" 
 
 And around us blew the night wind. It came down 
 from the mountains, and went rollicking through the 
 park, shaking the high, old trees, and murmuring in the 
 budding branches. The air seemed full of a spring 
 melody a song of gratitude that the hard winter was 
 past, that an unending fullness of joy had come to a 
 suffering human heart. My soul joined in that hymn of 
 praise, now his arm held me so firm and close as if he 
 nevermore would let me go from him. 
 
 It was spring in my heart, and many and beautiful 
 were the flowers that bloomed there, and they twined 
 themselves into a single wreath around Gerhardt 
 around my Gerhardt! 
 
 Then, suddenly, with fear, I looked up. 
 
 " Your mother, Gerhardt?" I whispered. 
 
 "She is asleep, Magdalena," he replied. "This is a 
 red-letter day, to-day. Just at the moment when Gott- 
 lieb came to inform me of your plan of flight, she sank 
 into a refreshing sleep, and Sister Agnes sent us all from 
 the room, else I must have let my little brown maiden 
 be carried away alone into the wide world!" 
 
 "God be praised!" I cried, from a full heart; "but it 
 was nevertheless very disloyal of Gottlieb to have " 
 
 " Peace! From to-day no harm shall ever come to 
 the old man; he shall have a position of trust in my 
 new household. But, now, tell me who told you about 
 Melanie von Stelten?" 
 
 " Ferra, Gerhardt. She said you were betrothed to 
 her in Italy; because you were so embarrassed financially, 
 you felt compelled to marry her, and " 
 
 " Go on," he said; " the confession must be complete." 
 
 "And George and I she inferred that we were a
 
 240 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 great care upon you; and then, the letter from my guard- 
 ian O, Gerhardt, believe me, mamma was not friv- 
 olous' O, I was full of grief and shame that, on our 
 account, you should " 
 
 " And Ferra told you all that?" he asked, " and also 
 of the letter?" 
 
 " O, Gerhardt, I have seen it, and it asked for a hun- 
 dred and fifty thalers!" I cried, anxiously, and sought to 
 read his face. It seemed to me really as if he were 
 smiling. 
 
 " And so you were going away, in order, if possible, 
 to reimburse me for the large sum? And you and 
 George were to go through life independent of me, so I 
 should have one burden the less?" 
 
 I nodded. "Yes, Gerhardt; but also because " 
 
 "Well, because?" 
 
 " I could not have borne to see you near another." 
 
 He did not answer; his lips pressed themselves close 
 on my mouth. 
 
 " I was very cautious," he said, then, " for I knew what 
 would happen in case Ferra knew my secret. I only 
 wrote once to my little Magdalena, and yet speak, had 
 she no presentiment?" 
 
 I was silent a moment. 
 
 " No, no, Gerhardt; I scarcely knew myself if I were 
 dear to you; and then she was not here." As I spoke, 
 I remembered his letter. "Anna saw how I received your 
 letter, and that I kissed it." 
 
 " Were you so incautious as that?" he asked, playfully. 
 " Now, I know enough; tell me only, you imprudent, 
 credulous little woman how could you believe all that 
 you have been telling me, after the parting I took from 
 you?" 
 
 " O, Gerhardt, I did not understand it," I said, hon-
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 241 
 
 estly; " but I thought, because you were my cousin " 
 
 Now he laughed. 
 
 " No, sweetheart, I was very far from a cousinly feel- 
 ing at that moment, I assure you." 
 
 "But," I said, suddenly, " I believe that Melanie von 
 Stelten loves you!" 
 
 " No, Magdalena," he replied, earnestly, " not as you 
 think; she has the place of a sister with me. Ask her 
 what she confessed to me in Italy. I have talked to her 
 the entire day only of you, and she listened patiently to 
 everything. She would have married Joachim, and he 
 he, in his extremity, and not till then, offered himself to 
 her, just a short time before his death. She has no 
 parents, Lena, and she came to me for counsel. She 
 had already heard much against Joachim; but in spite of 
 that she would have accepted him if she had felt 
 she could have been a help to him morally. I warned 
 her, and painted to her what the future would be. She 
 had come to me I could not let her risk her happiness; 
 she knew well that I had her interests at heart. I have 
 known her since she was a little girl, and have always 
 stood ready to help her at any time with counsel and 
 deed. See, that is all." 
 
 Yes; now I understood Melanie's enthusiastic praise: 
 "How good and true he was!" 
 
 " Gerhardt," I whispered, "you are much too good for 
 me; I am so " 
 
 "Willful," he finished. "Depend upon it, we shall 
 tame that defiant, little heart yet." 
 
 " Yes, I will be better, Gerhardt; but now, one thing 
 more: Your mother will she accept me?" 
 
 " So soon as she is well, which God grant may be soon, 
 you shall receive the answer from herself; but, to set 
 your heart at rest, I will tell you what she wrote me in 
 
 16
 
 242 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 the last letter before she was taken ill: 'I say yes with 
 my whole heart, Gerhardt; more and more I see how 
 embittered I was. What had the poor child done to me, 
 that I should have been so harsh to her? Bring her to me, 
 Gerhardt I will make everything right if God spares my 
 life. My only longing in this world is to know my 
 children are happy happier than Edith and I have 
 been.' " 
 
 We walked on, heeding not the light spring rain. I 
 was now eager to see Charlotte again. 
 
 " Gerhardt," I asked once more, as we stood before 
 the lighted vestibule of the villa, and I could see quite 
 clearly his dear face in the pale light, " Gerhardt, tell me 
 truly, and is it no dream?" 
 
 " No, Magdalena, it is reality," he replied, looking with 
 infinite tenderness into my eyes. 
 
 At the foot of the stairs he parted from me, and said: 
 
 "Go up to Charlotte, Lena; I will come after you very 
 soon." 
 
 Surprised, I turned around; there was a stern look in 
 his face. 
 
 "Gerhardt!" I cried, "you are going to Ferra;youare 
 angry with her!" 
 
 " Only a few words, Lena; go up, they will be soon 
 said." 
 
 "No, no, dear Gerhardt!" I entreated. "She did not 
 mean to do harm. O, do not say angry words to her 
 to-day, Gerhardt, only not to-day." 
 
 " I never was in a milder temper, Lena, than in this 
 hour, and therefore do not hinder me," he said, decidedly. 
 " It is best to free the heart while the deed is fresh, and 
 I will not be a severe judge to her, for your sake, Mag- 
 dalena. I promise you that, but there is much that must 
 be made clear between us."
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 243 
 
 " Gerhardt, I implore you," I pleaded, " forget what 
 she did!" 
 
 But already he had let my hand fall with a light press- 
 ure, and I saw him enter Ferra's room. 
 
 A moment I lingered, listening with half fear; then I 
 hurried up the stairs and knocked on Charlotte's door. 
 
 "Come in!" called a dear, beloved voice, and the next 
 moment we were in each other's arms. It was dark in the 
 familiar room; I could not see her face distinctly, but I 
 stroked, with loving touch, her soft cheeks and fluffy 
 hair. 
 
 " Dear Charlotte Lottchen is it surely yourself?" 
 
 "Yes, my Lena, the very same your old Charlotte; 
 and you?" 
 
 I hid my face on her breast; no, I was no more the 
 same. The whole blessed weight of happiness pressed 
 to my lips, and yet I was silent. How could I tell her 
 of a joy that she had lost! I only pressed her closer 
 to me. Then I felt a kiss on my forehead. She freed 
 herself from my arms, and in the next moment she stood 
 on the little balcony. 
 
 " Charlotte!" I called, softly, hastening after her; but 
 she did not hear. In the pale starlight of the spring 
 night I saw her face, pale and intense, directed to the 
 distant mountains, her hands close folded over her 
 breast. The breeze blew the light scarf from her head; 
 she did not notice it; but it carried a greeting into the 
 far distance. 
 
 " Robert! Robert!" I heard her murmur. I would not 
 disturb her, and so we stood a long, long time. There 
 sounded suddenly loud talking from the corridor below; 
 anxiously I went back into the room and listened. Some- 
 one pressed on the latch of the door, and it opened a 
 little.
 
 244 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 " My betrothed is with Charlotte," I heard Gerhardt's 
 voice. How naturally he said it, as if I had been his 
 betrothed for a very long time. 
 
 I pressed my hands to my temples then it really 
 was no dream? 
 
 Then the door opened; the bright lamplight streamed 
 in and Ferra stood before me. The door remained 
 open, and Gerhardt walked quickly to me, and said, put- 
 ting his arm around me: 
 
 " Ferra has come to welcome you as sister, Magdalena." 
 
 I looked at her, and a deep pity took possession of 
 me, for the lips that forced themselves with difficulty to 
 smile were pale as death, and the hands that were 
 stretched toward me trembled. She did not speak as I 
 laid my hands in hers for a moment, but the beautiful 
 head held itself as proudly as ever. 
 
 " Ferra intends to desert Wendhusen for a long time," 
 said Gerhardt, as simply and naturally as if there had 
 been only the most friendly relations between them. "It 
 has long been an ardent desire of hers to see Italy, and 
 so soon as mamma is entirely out of danger, she will set 
 out on the journey." 
 
 " I think in the coming week," came low from her lips. 
 "Will you excuse me, Gerhardt, if I go back? I have a 
 headache, and " 
 
 He reached his hand to her, but she turned around 
 abruptly, and the next moment the door closed behind 
 her and darkness reigned again in the room. 
 
 " O, Gerhardt," I cried, " how sorry I am for her!" 
 
 "She is much to be pitied, Magdalena, for she will 
 nowhere find peace, not even in the world where she so 
 longs to be; but I hope when she comes back that that 
 she will have learned to , understand the love she now 
 disdains. But where is Lottchen?"
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 245 
 
 " Here," answered a soft voice near us. " I will light 
 the lamp to see the little betrothed, Gerhardt." And as 
 the beams fell on her sweet face there played a smile 
 around the sensitive mouth. 
 
 " O no, no, brother," she whispered, as he drew her 
 hastily to him and looked lovingly into the tearful eyes; 
 " no, no, I am not envious. God bless you and your 
 happiness!" 
 
 As the night came on, the storm outside ceased, the 
 heavens looked down, studded with stars; and deep 
 peace lay over Wendhusen. Aunt Edith sat on her sofa 
 in the sitting-room of the old cloister. She could now 
 leave the sick-room, for the crisis was past, and the 
 invalid had fallen into a deep, health-giving sleep. 
 
 Aunt Edith held my note of farewell in her hand, and 
 her shining eyes rested on Gerhardt and me, as we stood 
 together before her 
 
 " O, dearest, truest Auntie," I cried, kneeling down 
 before her, " can you realize that I am Gerhardt's 
 betrothed? Are you not surprised?" 
 
 " Bless the foolish child! Did I not long ago see that 
 he was over head and ears in love with my little gypsy 
 girl?" 
 
 Gerhardt did not reply to her; he had gone to the fire- 
 place and thrown a paper in the flames. I recognized 
 the peculiar form of the letters; it was the paper Gott- 
 lieb had found in Joachim's room a few days before. 
 
 "There!" he said, "that will never more remind us 
 that there are people who think I have no claim in all 
 the world on happiness." 
 
 "We will soon be alone again, Minka," said Aunt 
 Edith, lightly, and stroked the white fur of her favorite, 
 who had leaped on the arm of the sofa. " There, look 
 at her, that faithless maiden, how she beams with happi-
 
 246 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 ness! All the tenderness that formerly we both used to 
 have, Minka, she squanders now on him; but we have 
 known for a long time haven't we? that we should not 
 be able to keep her." 
 
 "You, dearest!" I whispered, with emotion, kissing 
 the wrinkled hands of the old lady. " How can I ever 
 repay you for your love and goodness?" 
 
 "Stop! no more tears to-day, Lena," cried Gerhardt-, 
 "have you thought of George?" 
 
 I sprang up with a little cry of exultation. George, 
 George! now he had a protector, a father's house, a 
 home! I never would weep again, and the tears came 
 faster than ever. " Do let me, Gerhardt; they are tears 
 of joy."
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Four years have passed since that evening years of 
 untroubled, unalloyed happiness. The sun shines finally 
 on Wendhusen, full and complete a real sun of blessed- 
 ness and its rays reflect back from the earnest, true face 
 of my husband, and out of the sweet, laughing children's 
 eyes our children. O, if my mother had lived, my joy 
 would have been supreme. 
 
 We live in the old Abbess House. It is the dearest 
 home on earth. My eldest that little, fair-haired creat- 
 ure with the dark eyes trips quite independently along 
 the corridor and knocks with her rosy knuckles on Aunt 
 Edith's door, and she is always received with delight. 
 Every afternoon, however, I send her over to the villa to 
 grandmamma; or the still erect, commanding woman 
 comes herself up the broad steps, straight to the nursery, 
 to bring her grandchild herself. And the little one 
 clings to the good grandmamma with all the tender love 
 of a child's heart. 
 
 The boy in the cradle, who has his father's blue eyes 
 and the naughty willfulness of his mother (he can scream 
 lustily if his wishes are not heeded), is, however, the 
 particular favorite of the old lady. She sits hours long 
 by the cradle, and never tires kissing the little, round, 
 dimpled face. 
 
 I have a very loving mother-in-law, and the moment 
 when I knelt by her bed and she welcomed me as Ger- 
 hardt's betrothed, is one of the most important of my life. 
 
 (847)
 
 248 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 She never spoke of my mother, and, though it was a 
 sorrow to me, I did not dare question. 
 
 However, when Gerhardt and I, accompanied by her, 
 went to my father's native town to arrange about the 
 dowry, she wanted to give everything to the little bride 
 with the empty hands. With my heart overflowing with 
 gratitude, I threw my arms about her neck, and then 
 she said, shyly and hastily: 
 
 "Come, Lena, take me to the churchyard to her 
 grave." And she sat a long time by the cypress-grown 
 mound, and bitter tears fell there. 
 
 And when we finally went away, she took my hand 
 and said: 
 
 " I thank God I have still time, Lena, to do the good 
 to you that I failed to do for her." 
 
 A greater concession I could not wish. 
 
 The library is Gerhardt's study, as it was his father's 
 before him, and, opening out of it, the large room with 
 the balcony that looks out upon the cloister garden is 
 my room. 
 
 My sewing-table stands by the window, and for me 
 there is no lovelier view in the world. The garden is the 
 play-ground of my children; they live there, and little 
 Theresa plays with delight on the old grave-stone. 
 There it glistens through the foliage, my much-loved 
 place. The evening of our wedding-day, Gerhardt led 
 me out on the balcony, and there, in the bluish moon- 
 light, he whispered that it was there for the first time 
 that the little cousin seemed particularly charming to 
 him, with the crimson wreath on her head; and that 
 often, very often afterward, he would stand behind the 
 jalousies and look down on me where I sat, so uncon- 
 scious of an observer. 
 
 Gottlieb drove us to the church; and it was a proud
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 249 
 
 day for him when he guided the four bay horses from 
 the high seat of the bride's carriage. He was also the 
 first one to address me as "Gracious Frau," even before 
 our old Christiana, who had not been deterred by the long 
 journey from coming to me on my bridal-day. As the 
 old man brought a wedding gift in the name of the 
 servants, he said, in his simple-hearted way: 
 
 "Gracious Frau, I helped a little bit to this you 
 know when you would go away that time." 
 
 Now he drives me out almost daily me and the chil- 
 dren. He is my especial coachman, by Gerhardt's com- 
 mand; and if at any time he is out of sorts, he quite 
 tyrannizes over me, and says, though very respectfully: 
 
 "It looks like rain; we had better stay at home, my 
 lady; the children might take cold." 
 
 And I nod and look up at the sky, and even if my 
 eyes do not discover any clouds, I say: "You are right, 
 Gottlieb; we will remain at home in the cloister garden." 
 
 Only one dark shadow moves in this summer bright- 
 ness P'erra. She has had the misfortune to lose her 
 little son, and through that has vanished her last support. 
 She is a poor, complaining, restless creature. A few 
 years ago she married again; the bridegroom was the 
 old man from S that she once assigned to Lotta. She 
 lives in Paris, Baden-Baden, or Italy, as the mood takes 
 her. She could not exist, she thought, on the allowance 
 Gerhardt generously provided for her, when she had 
 believed herself to be mistress of Wendhusen; so she 
 accepted the hand of the aged man. 
 
 She left Wendhusen very soon. When Gerhardt led 
 me to his mother, she had already left the villa. She 
 separated from him in anger, and has not forgiven him 
 to-day. He not only should not have married at all, 
 but he married a penniless girl!
 
 250 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 Later, Aunt Edith told me that Ferra had endeavored 
 to hold Wendhusen for her son; and so at any price 
 would have prevented Gerhardt from marrying 
 
 However, a short time ago I received a letter from 
 her; she called me her " Little Magdalena," and begged 
 for quite a large sum, " because she was in momentary 
 embarrassment." Gerhardt gave me the money to send 
 to her. 
 
 " See," he said, "so begins misfortune. She has secrets 
 from her husband. Write to her, Lena, and place before 
 her that happiness only thrives where confidence dwells." 
 
 But she never answered me. Pray God that sometime 
 sunshine may fall on this dark page! 
 
 " And Charlotte?" asks the reader. 
 
 O, I will not forget Charlotte; she is really the hero- 
 ine of this narrative my dear, beautiful Charlotte. 
 
 Three days ago I went with my husband to FOlkerode 
 on a glorious summer day. We were the last to arrive; 
 mamma and Aunt Edith had driven over early in the day 
 with the bride. Charlotte would be married at F<Mke- 
 rode; I could not be separated too long from the chil- 
 dren. It was the first time I had left the little lad in the 
 cradle. Of course, I had to make a wedding toilet. 
 
 "You must wear a white dress," said my husband, and 
 plucked for me, with his own hand, in the cloister garden, 
 the crimson blooms of his favorite flower to place in my 
 hair. He 'was very enthusiastic over his little wife's 
 appearance in the lace-trimmed dress of India mull, 
 quite as much to-day as on our wedding-day, when I first 
 wore it. 
 
 We found the whole house at Folkerode trimmed with 
 oak garlands; and when we entered the room the mar- 
 riage was solemnized. There were only the members of 
 the family present, who stood around the bridal pair,
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 251 
 
 before the altar made of evergreens. It was a serious 
 wedding, much more solemn than usual when two bind 
 themselves together for life. 
 
 Gerhardt held my hand close in his own during the 
 ceremony; I saw how moist his eyes were. In the back- 
 ground showed Gottlieb's silvery-white head. 
 
 The window of the large room stood open, and the 
 sweet breath from the forest filled the room. The beau- 
 tiful bride was pale; but when the minister asked if she 
 would stand by his side in joy and sorrow, in sickness 
 and health, till death should them part, and the " Yes " 
 came clearly from her lips, the tall man by her side threw 
 his arm, with visible emotion, around her; and so they 
 knelt down before the altar for the blessing, and the old 
 man laid his hands in holy benediction on their heads. 
 Charlotte von Demphoff had become Berka's wife, after 
 a long inward struggle. 
 
 No, it was no joyful wedding; it could not be. But 
 there never was a marriage where there was more holy 
 consecration, and purer resolves, than that in the lonely, 
 out-of-the-world forest house. 
 
 In that slender girl, with the modestly drooped head, 
 was the embodiment of love the mighty, all-con- 
 quering love; the paleness, which sprung from deep 
 agitation, did not leave the sweet face; and Robert's 
 eyes followed her with anxiety, as if he feared still 
 that she might be torn from him; and when she 
 turned to him, there lay an expression of thankfulness 
 on his features which brought the tears to my eyes from 
 sympathy. 
 
 In the rosy twilight we started on our journey home. 
 A loving kiss from Charlotte, a hand-pressure from 
 Robert, and Gerhardt lifted me into our carriage. 
 
 The young wife stood on the steps, under the shadow
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 
 of the tall oaks whose tops were still bathed in the sun- 
 light. Farewells were kissed; she threw her arms around 
 her mother's neck, bent down to Aunt Edith, and we 
 were off. Yet once again, two old women's faces peered 
 out of the carriage window for one more look, and the 
 horses started. " Adieu, Charlotte; adieu, Robert," 
 called Gerhardt and I, and Gottlieb followed the other 
 carriage. 
 
 I kept my head turned back just as long as I could 
 see them; they stood, in a close embrace, on the steps, 
 and looked after us. Again a last greeting, a nod, and 
 the solitary forest house vanished behind us in the dis- 
 tant beech woods. Gerhardt held my hand, and silently 
 we drove in the darkening night. While the after-glow of 
 the sunset was still in the sky, the moon was rising in 
 the east, and flooded the world with her silvery sheen, 
 and finally appeared through the dark foliage that high- 
 pointed gable roof under which my children were slum- 
 bering Wendhusen, my home, my happiness! 
 
 And now I will close. 
 
 In the next room I hear Aunt Edith's soft voice. She 
 is telling my mother-in-law of a note she has just 
 received from Robert. 
 
 " They are so happy, Theresa," she says. 
 
 It is a joy to see both old ladies together. Tenderer 
 could no sisters be than they in their intercourse with 
 one another. 
 
 Have I spoken of all, now? Ah, no; George, my 
 slender, pretty brother, Gerhardt's favorite, who is not 
 crowded out of his heart even by his own children. He 
 is with us now for his vacation. There he comes over 
 the grass plat in the cloister garden. He is taller than 
 I now, and has become an industrious, talented student. 
 When he has passed his examination, he is going to
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 253 
 
 Folkerode as forester-scholar, but at the present moment 
 he is carrying his niece he is quite proud of being 
 uncle. How awkwardly he holds the little midget on 
 his arm! but she laughs and tousles his dark, curly hair. 
 She has now compensation for Auntie Lotta, whom she 
 has missed very much. 
 
 And here comes a guest purring around the writing- 
 desk, and reminds me not to forget Minka, the dearest 
 play-fellow of my children. Does she not belong also 
 to Cloister Wendhusen? 
 
 THE END.
 
 Hill Illlllllll Illllimi 
 
 A 000 043 667 5