, it was for that I came."

She cast a glance at the dainty time-piece above the writing-table.

"Five minutes to nine--I must be going home. Do tell me how you mean to
arrange matters?"

"You shall hear to-morrow--the day after to-morrow--I don't know yet,"
stammered the young wife, pressing her hand on her aching head.

"Only don't make a scandal, Gertrude," and Jenny took up her gray cloak
with its red silk lining and tied the lace strings of her hat.

"If the affair is settled as Mr. Sneider advises, it is the best you
can do. By the way, how does Frank take it? Has he confessed it? To be
sure, what else could he do? Well, let me hear to-morrow then, at
latest. By the way, child, it has just occurred to me--that day that
Linden called on us the first time, that fellow, that Wolff, came with
him across the square to our house. I was sitting in the bay-window and
I was surprised to see how confidentially Wolff clapped him on the
shoulder."

Gertrude stood motionless. Ah, she had seen the same thing; she
recalled it so clearly at this moment.

"Yes, yes," she stammered.

"The lawyer says he does a great deal of that sort of business. But now
good-night, my pet--will you send in word or shall we send some one out
in the morning?"

"I will send word," replied Gertrude.

She did not go out with her sister, she stood still in her place, her
head gunk on her breast, her arms hanging nerveless by her side. This
conversation with Jenny had opened an abyss before her eyes; she no
longer knew what she should do, only one thing was clear, she could not
stay with him; she could not endure a life of indifference by his side,
and--any other life would never again be possible to them. "Never!" she
said aloud with decision, "Never!"

She heard his steps now in the next room; then the steps went away
again and presently she heard them on the gravel-walk in the garden
till they finally died away. She was so tired and it was so cold, and
she could not realize that there had ever been a time when it had been
different,--when she had been happy--she seemed to herself so degraded.

She had that fatal letter still in her hand, where it burnt like
glowing coals. She knew an old maid, the daughter of a poor official,
who was soured and embittered. For thirteen years she had been engaged
to a poor referendary, and finally they had recognized the fact that
they never would be rich enough to marry. She had remained lonely and
piti