by her own sorrow, Eva had scarcely heeded her father's
words, and now impetuously refused to leave her mother. Herr Ernst,
pleased by this immoderate grief for the one dearest to him, permitted
her to remain, and asked Els to attend to the outside affairs which a
death always brought with it.

Els accepted the new duty as a matter of course and went to the door; but
at the threshold she turned back, rushed to the deathbed, kissed the pure
brow and closed eyelids of the sleeper, and then knelt beside her in
silent prayer. When she rose she clasped Eva, who had knelt and risen
with her, in a close embrace, and whispered: "Whatever happens, you may
rely on me."

Then she consulted her father concerning certain arrangements which must
be made, and also asked him what she should say to the maid's lover, who
had come to beseech his forgiveness.

"Tell him to leave me in peace!" cried Herr Ernst vehemently. Els tried
to intercede for the servant, but her father pressed both hands over his
ears, exclaiming: "Who can reach a decision when he is out of his senses
himself? Let the man come to-morrow, or the day after. Whoever may call,
I will see no one, and don't wish to know who is here."

But the peace and solitude for which he longed seemed denied him. A few
hours after he left the chamber of death he was obliged to go to the Town
Hall on business which could not be deferred; and when, shortly before
sunset, he returned home and locked himself into his own room, old
Eysvogel again appeared.

He looked pale and agitated, and ordered the manservant--who denied him
admittance as he had been directed--to call Jungfrau Els. His voice
trembled as he entreated her to persuade her father to see him again. The
matter in question was the final decision of the fate of his ancient
house, of Wolff, and also her own and her marriage with his son. Perhaps
the death of his beloved wife might render her father's mood more gentle.
He did not yet know all Now he must learn it. If he again said "No," it
would seal the ruin of the Eysvogel firm.

How imploringly he could plead! how humbly the words fell from the old
merchant's lips, moving Els to her inmost heart as she remembered the
curt inflexibility with which, only yesterday, this arrogant man, in that
very spot, had refused any connection with the Ortliebs! How much it must
cost him to bow his stiff neck before her, who was so much younger, and
approach her father, whose heart he had