"She turned her head and looked in her lap. 'I was not down there,' she
said, hesitatingly.

"I went away; my old eyes were failing then. Close by the door my foot
caught in something soft. I stooped down; it was the lace veil that
Susanna used to wear over her head, heavy and wet with rain. Without a
word I laid it on the nearest chair. Why did Susanna tell a lie? Why was
she frightened?

"And all at once an ugly, shocking thought darted like lightning through
my brain, that made me almost numb with fear. But no, surely it was not
possible, it was madness; how could one imagine such a thing? I scolded
myself. With trembling hand I lit a candle and went to my writing-desk;
to this day I cannot account for my answer to Stuermer being as it was,
and not different. I wrote under the influence of an inexplicable
anxiety. Strangely enough the letter sounded:

"'MY DEAR EDWIN:--I shall be glad to see you here to-morrow
afternoon at five o'clock, and can also tell you an important
piece of news, which will please you. What do you say to this,
that Klaus, our old Klaus, is engaged; and that the bride-elect
is no other than Susanna Mattoni? Very likely you have guessed
it easily?

"'They have been engaged for some time, but it has been kept a
secret for the mean time; but an old chatterbox like me may
surely make an exception in your case.

"'Affectionate greetings from your old friend,

"'ROSAMOND VON HEGEWITZ.'

"In the greatest haste I folded the note, rang, and gave it into the
immediate charge of the coachman. I was seized with a nervous trembling
as I heard him ride out of the yard. I sent down word to Anna Maria that
I should not come to supper; I was rather fatigued.

"About eight o'clock I heard Susanna's light step in the hall; she was
coming from supper, and trilling a love-song. Then the door of her room
closed, and all was still.

"It was long past midnight when I stole out to the hall window to see if
Anna Maria had gone to bed. She was still awake; in the candle-light
which fell from her windows over the flower-beds of the garden a shadow
was moving to and fro, incessantly, restlessly. In the anxiety of my
heart I folded my hands: 'Lord God, send her no storm in this new
spring-time,' I whispered; 'let her be happy, make me ashamed of my care
and anxiety. Let my fear be an error. Ah! give her the happiness she
deserves!'

"The next day broke gray