had considered impossible now happened, out of love
to her brother. Now I thought the old woman must break out in an ecstasy
of joy; I shuddered already at the thought of the theatrical
glorification in her darling's good fortune. Far from it; she spoke
quietly and coolly. I could not understand her, but it sounded like a
murmur of discontent.

"'I do not comprehend you,' Anna Maria said, now icily; 'if I have
rightly understood my brother's letter, Susanna gave her assent on the
evening when she fled to you. What? Is she, meanwhile, to have changed
her mind?'

"Again a murmur; then I heard disconnected words between the old woman's
sobs: 'Defence--true love--' and so forth. This homeless woman was as
pretentious as a ruling princess making arrangements to give her
daughter in marriage to a man of a lower class.

"Then I heard her leave the room. When I reentered Anna Maria was
standing at the window, her forehead pressed against the panes, her
clenched hand rested on the window-sill, and her lips were tightly
closed.

"'Anna Maria,' said I, 'this person must leave the house.'

"'Klaus may decide that,' she replied, gently; 'I have no longer any
voice in this matter.'

"'She is an arrogant thing!' I continued, in my wrath.

"Anna Maria turned. 'Ah, aunt,' said she, 'the old woman loves Susanna
like a mother, and such a relative naturally asks, in respect to the
most brilliant match: "Will it be for the child's happiness?" I ought
not to have taken it amiss; it was unjust in me.'

"I pressed her hand softly. Anna Maria's noble sentiments sprang forth
in her pain, like flowers after rain. God grant that she was right in
her excuse!

"Half an hour afterward, Isabella Pfannenschmidt came in with Susanna,
whose eyes were red with weeping, and hair dishevelled. Isabella led her
to Anna Maria, and Susanna made a motion as if to take her hand, but her
own fell to her side again, and so, for a moment, the two girls, so
unlike, stood opposite each other. Anna Maria had turned pale, to her
very lips; then she put her arm about Susanna's delicate shoulders, and
drew her to herself. But Susanna slid to the floor, and, sobbing,
embraced her knees; it seemed as if she wished to ask forgiveness for a
heavy offence, but not a word passed her lips. She only looked up at
Anna Maria, with an expression which I shall never forget my life long,
she seemed so true in those few moments. But before Anna Maria could
stoop to raise t