was not
foolish to leave his money in the hands of strangers abroad, and to pay
so high an interest to strangers at home; but he had always had a horror
of being led to invest this round sum in his undertakings, considering
it in the light of his wife's jointure and his daughter's portion. Now
it, too, was endangered, the last security had vanished. Every thing
around him reeled. Ehrenthal had deceived him. It was he who had carried
on the correspondence with the lawyer of the Polish count. He had
punctually paid him the interest when it was last due. There was no
doubt that he had known the precarious nature of this foreign
investment, and had kept back the knowledge from his client.

"Father," cried Lenore, raising him as she spoke, "speak with Ehrenthal;
go to your solicitor; he may be able to suggest some remedy."

"You are right, my child," said the baron, with a toneless voice; "it is
possible that the danger may not yet be imminent. Tell them to put the
horses to; I will go to town at once. Conceal what you have read from
your mother, and you, dear Lenore, come with me."

When the carriage drove up, the baron was still in the very same place
where he had first read the fatal tidings. During the journey he sat
silently in a corner of the carriage. Arrived in town, he took his
daughter to his lodgings, which he had not yet given up, for fear of
leading his wife or his acquaintance to suspect that his means were
impaired. He himself drove to Ehrenthal's. He entered the office in
angry mood, and, after a dry salutation, held out the newspaper to the
trader. Ehrenthal rose slowly, and said, nodding his head, "I know it;
Loewenberg has written to me about it."

"You have deceived me, Mr. Ehrenthal," cried the baron, striving hard
for composure.

"To what purpose?" replied Ehrenthal. "Why should I hide from you what
the newspapers must needs reveal? This may happen in the case of any
estate, any mortgage; what great misfortune is there in this?"

"The property is deeply involved, it seems: you must long have known
this; you have deceived me."

"What are you saying there about deceit?" cried Ehrenthal, indignantly;
"have a care that no stranger hear your words. I have left my money
standing with you; what interest can I have in lowering you and
increasing your difficulties? I myself am only too deeply involved in
them," and he pointed to the place occupied in most men by a heart. "Had
I known that your factory wo