llow, Marx!" he could have howled like a mastiff and revealed
all; but it seemed as if he again felt the rope around his neck, so he
kept silence.

CHAPTER X.

The grey dawn was already glimmering, yet neither the expected vehicle
nor Jorg had come. Old Rahel, usually an early riser, was sleeping as
soundly as if she had to make up the lost slumber of ten nights; but the
smith's anxiety would no longer allow him to remain in the close room.
Ruth followed him into the open air, and when she timidly touched
him--for there had always been something unapproachable to her in the
silent man's gigantic figure--he looked at her from head to foot, with
strange, questioning sympathy, and then asked suddenly, with a haste
unusual to him.

"Has your father told you about Jesus Christ?"

"Often!" replied Ruth.

"And do you love Him?"

"Dearly. Father says He loved all children, and called them to Him."

"Of course, of course!" replied the smith, blushing with shame for his
own distrust.

The doctor did not follow the others, and as soon as his wife saw that
they were alone, she beckoned to him.

Lopez sat down on the couch beside her, and took her hand. The slender
fingers trembled in his clasp, and when, with loving anxiety, he drew
her towards him, he felt the tremor of her delicate limbs, while her
eyes expressed bitter suffering and terrible dread.

"Are you afraid?" he asked, tenderly.

Elizabeth shuddered, threw her arms passionately around his neck, and
nodded assent.

"The wagon will convey us to the Rhine Valley, please God, this very
day, and there we shall be safe," he continued, soothingly. But she
shook her head, her features assuming an expression of indifference and
contempt. Lopez understood how to read their meaning, and asked: "So it
is not the bailiffs you fear; something else is troubling you?"

She nodded again, this time still more eagerly, drew out the crucifix,
which she had hitherto kept concealed under her coverlid, showed it to
him, then pointed upward towards heaven, lastly to herself and him, and
shrugged her shoulders with an air of deep, mournful renunciation.

"You are thinking of the other world," said Lopez; then, fixing his eyes
on the ground, he continued, in a lower tone: "I know you are tortured
by the fear of not meeting me there."

"Yes," she gasped, with a great effort, pressing her forehead against
his shoulder.

A hot tear fell on the doctor's hand, and he felt as