often grumbled against God, that
He did not give us a son; now make us to rejoice that He has given us
a daughter, who will bring us a son and inherit our name through her
children, and who will give us what we have never known--prosperity and
riches. I beg you, my dear, good child, grant your parents the few last
years of their life freedom from care!"

"And I, Marie," said her mother, in a softened and tender tone, which
Marie had never heard from her--"I beg you also, be a good daughter,
pity your mother! I have always led a joyless, unhappy life. I lived
unmarried, a native-born countess, with proud relations, who made me
feel bitterly my dependence; when married my existence was only trouble,
privations, care, and sorrow. I beg you, Marie, teach me to know
happiness, for which I have so longed in vain; give me independence and
prosperity, which I have always desired, and never known. I pray, Marie,
make us happy in bringing us a rich, genteel, and good son-in-law, Herr
Ebenstreit."

Marie, who met the scorn and threats of her mother with firmness and a
proud demeanor, trembled as she heard these severe and merciless lips,
always so cold and harsh, now begging and imploring. At first she was
quite frightened, and then terrified, and covered her face with her
hands, her head sinking upon her breast as her mother spoke.

"Speak, my daughter," cried the general, as his wife was silent. "Speak,
my dear Marie. Say the word, and we shall be all happy, and there will
be no happier family found in Berlin, or the world even. Say that you
will marry Ebenstreit, and we will love and bless you so long as we
live. Do say yes, dear Marie!"

Her hands fell from her face, and stretching them out toward her
parents, she looked at them in despair.

There was a fearful pause. "I cannot, it is impossible!" she shrieked.
"I cannot marry this man, for I do not love him. I love another, whom I
can never forget, whom I shall love forever. I love--"

"Herr Conrector Moritz!" announced Trude, hastily bursting open the
door, and looking in with a triumphant smile.

CHAPTER XV

HATE AND LOVE

"Herr Conrector Moritz wishes to pay his respects," called out Trude
again.

"We do not wish to receive him," cried Frau von Werrig.

"He dare not presume to enter!" shrieked the general.

Marie cried, "Moritz! Oh! my beloved Moritz," rushing with outstretched
arms toward her lover, who just appeared at the door. "God has sent you