y. "The father hides from his
child and sends strangers!" she murmured to herself. "Come with me to
the Superior," she suddenly exclaimed.

She seized the Professorin's hand, and drew her towards the convent.
Heimchen came towards them, crying:--

"No, Manna, you must not go away and leave me here alone."

"Come with us," answered Manna, taking the child by the hand.

She went to the Superior and asked permission to go with Frau Dournay
to her father, who was waiting for her on the main-land.

"Send for him to come here."

"No, I would rather go to him."

Permission was granted. It was difficult for Manna to free herself from
Heimchen, who could be pacified only by Manna's solemn promise to
return.

Manna sat gazing into the water while they were in the boat. With Frau
Dournay, she entered the garden of the inn, where they found Sonnenkamp
and Pranken sitting in the shade of the arbor.

"You are going home with us?" cried Sonnenkamp to his daughter.

She received his embrace, but did not return it. Pranken greeted Manna
joyfully, and as she extended her hand to him, said smiling:--

"I have hardened my hand, but my heart is still soft, perhaps too
soft."

Manna cast down her eyes. There was some merry jesting about the manner
in which Pranken had settled himself here in the neighborhood. He
described pleasantly how his new life struck him; there was a fresh
vigor in his bearing, and a tone of warm feeling in all his words. He
saw with satisfaction what impression his deportment made upon Manna,
who said, at last, that she believed she might speak openly before this
gentleman and lady, who were not really strangers though not members of
her own family. She was not yet quite resolved, but she felt a real
longing to leave the convent very soon, or still better, not to return
to it again, letting her father or the Professorin go over to say
good-bye for her.

"May a friend say a word about it?" asked Pranken, as Sonnenkamp loudly
expressed his joy.

Manna begged him to speak, and he explained that, as a friend, he would
urge Manna to act properly and worthily; whatever might have passed, it
was Manna's duty not to break too abruptly the close and holy ties
which had united her with the convent, and, above all, with the
Superior; hardness and ingratitude towards others left a weight and
bitterness in the soul. He must believe, that, as Manna had entered the
convent from her own wish and a pure resolve, she