ntly and indignantly.

"'I know all you would say, aunt; I have said it to myself a hundred
times! I know as well as you that Susanna belongs to the common class,
that her mother came from doubtful antecedents. I know that Susanna is a
trifling, spoiled child, who seems little suited to my seriousness. I
know that I am old in comparison to her; and I know, above all, that
Anna Maria will never regard her as a sister. Nevertheless, aunt, my
resolve stands firm, for I love Susanna Mattoni, love her with all her
childish faults, which are hardly to be called faults. I love her in her
charming, trifling maidenhood; it will make me happy to be able to
educate and guide her further, and the love that Anna Maria denies her I
will try to make up to her.'

"I was silent, there was nothing more to be said.

"'You do not look happy, aunt,' he said, bitterly. 'Listen: this
afternoon I was thinking of flight; but when Anna Maria said, "Susanna
loves you!" it almost crushed me. Amid all the happiness which this
revelation opened to me, yet much that has been sacred and not to be
trifled with forcibly appealed to me. But when I beheld Susanna, like a
dying person, in that poor room, all at once it was clear to me that
everything in the world is powerless against a true, deep passion, and
then----'

"'And Anna Maria, Klaus?'

"'I cannot talk with her any more this evening, aunt,' he replied; 'wait
till I am quieter; there is time enough. I grow violent if I think that
it was her words that drove Susanna out in the stormy night. God grant
that it may do her no harm!'

"'Yet do not misunderstand the fact, Klaus, that Anna Maria wished
Susanna's best good,' I besought him, tears streaming from my eyes.
'Think how she loves you, how her very existence depends upon you. I
shall wish from my heart, Klaus, that what you have chosen may be the
right thing; but do not expect that Anna Maria will, without a struggle,
see you take a step which may perhaps bring you heavy burdens and little
happiness.'

"Klaus did not answer. He stood before his writing-desk and looked at
Anna Maria's portrait, which she had given him at Christmas three years
before; it was painted at the time that she refused Stuermer. The clear
blue eyes looked over at Klaus from the proud, grave face, which had the
slightest expression of pain about the mouth, as if she were again
speaking the words she had said to him at that time: 'I will stay with
you, Klaus; I cann