rom Anna's face, upon which
they had been fastened, and showed us Eugen standing in the door-way,
with compressed lips and eyes that looked from one to the other of us
anxiously.

"Your wife," said Anna, calmly. And before any one could speak she went
on: "I have helped to circulate the lie about you, Herr Graf"--she spoke
to Eugen--"for I disliked you; I disliked your family, and I disliked,
or rather wished to punish, Miss Wedderburn for her behavior to me. But
I firmly believed the story I circulated. The moment I knew the truth I
determined to set you right. Perhaps I was pleased to be able to
circumvent your plans. I considered that if I told the truth to
Friedhelm Helfen he would be as silent as yourself, because you chose to
be silent. The same with May Wedderburn, therefore I decided to come to
head-quarters at once. It is useless for you to try to appear guilty any
longer," she added, mockingly. "You can tell them all the rest, and I
will wish you good-afternoon."

She was gone. From that day to this I have never seen her nor heard of
her again. Probably with her power over us her interest in us ceased.

Meanwhile I had released myself from the spell which held me, and gone
to the countess. Something very like fear held me from approaching
Eugen.

Count Bruno had gone to his brother, and touched his shoulder. Eugen
looked up. Their eyes met. It just flashed into my mind that after six
years of separation the first words were--must be--words of
reconciliation, of forgiveness asked on the one side, eagerly extended
on the other.

"Eugen!" in a trembling voice, and then, with a positive sob, "canst
thou forgive?"

"My brother--I have not resented. I could not. Honor in thee, as honor
in me--"

"But that thou wert doubted, hated, mistak--"

But another had asserted herself. The countess had come to herself
again, and going up to him, looked him full in the face and kissed him.

"Now I can die happy! What folly, Eugen! and folly like none but thine.
I might have known--"

A faint smile crossed his lips. For all the triumphant vindication, he
looked very pallid.

"I have often wondered, Hildegarde, how so proud a woman as you could so
soon accept the worthlessness of a pupil on whom she had spent such
pains as you upon me. I learned my best notions of honor and chivalry
from you. You might have credited me rather with trying to carry the
lesson out than with plucking it away and casting it from me at t