own character, to undergo ill-repute
and the scorn of all honest people, in order that she might not be
forced into the horror of a marriage with him? Could he be made to
understand that in her flight from Nuremberg her great motive had
been to fly from him?

On the second morning after her return even this consolation was
taken from her, and she learned from her aunt that she had not given
up all hope in the direction of the town-clerk. On the first day
after her return not a word was said to Linda about Peter, nor would
she have had any notice of his presence in the house had she not
heard his shoes creaking up and down the stairs. Nor was the name of
Ludovic Valcarm so much as mentioned in her presence. Between Tetchen
and her there was not a word passed, unless such as were spoken in
the presence of Madame Staubach. Linda found that she was hardly
allowed to be for a moment out of her aunt's presence, and at this
time she was unable not to be submissive. It seemed to her that
her aunt was so good to her in not positively upbraiding her from
morning to night, that it was impossible for her not to be altogether
obedient in all things! She did not therefore even struggle to escape
the long readings, and the longer prayers, and the austere severity
of her aunt's presence. Except in prayer,--in prayers delivered out
loud by the aunt in the niece's presence,--no direct mention was
made of the great iniquity of which Linda had been guilty. Linda was
called no heartrending name to her face; but she was required to
join, and did join over and over again, in petitions to the throne of
mercy "that the poor castaway might be received back again into the
pale of those who were accepted." And at this time she would have
been content to continue to live like this, to join in such prayers
day after day, to have her own infamy continually brought forward as
needing some special mercy, if by such means she might be allowed to
live in tranquillity without sight or mention of Peter Steinmarc. But
such tranquillity was not to be hers.

On the afternoon of the second day her aunt went out, leaving Linda
alone in the house with Tetchen. Linda at once went to her chamber,
and endeavoured to make herself busy among those possessions of her
own which she had so lately thought that she was leaving for ever.
She took out her all, the articles of her wardrobe, all her little
treasures, opened the sweet folds of her modest raiment and refolded