ly and uneasily, and his whole frame was restless and
anxious. This only made Elise the more eager to find out the cause of
his trouble. She became more pressing, and Bertram again assured her
that nothing had happened.
Elise shook her head distrustfully. "And yet I do not deceive myself!
Misfortune stands written on your brow." Then, turning pale with
terror, she asked, "Do you bring my father bad news?"
Bertram did not answer, but cast his eyes on the ground to escape her
searching gaze. There awoke in her breast all the anxiety and care of
a loving daughter, and she trembled violently as she implored him
to inform her of the danger that threatened her father. He could
withstand her no longer. "She must learn it some time; it is better
she should hear it from me," muttered he to himself. He took her hand,
led her to the sofa, and, sitting down by her side, imparted to her
slowly and carefully, always endeavoring to spare her feelings, the
terrible troubles and misfortunes of her father. But Elise was little
acquainted with the material cares of life. She, who had never
known any extreme distress, any real want, could not understand how
happiness and honor could depend on money. When Bertram had finished,
she drew a long breath, as if relieved from some oppressive anxiety.
"How you have frightened me!" said she, smiling. "Is that all the
trouble--we are to be poor? Well, my father does not care much about
money."
"But he does about his honor," said Bertram.
"Oh, the honor of my father cannot stand in any danger," cried Elise,
with noble pride.
Bertram shook his head. "But it is in danger, and though _we_ are
convinced of his innocence, the world will not believe it. It will
forget all his noble deeds, all his high-mindedness and liberality, it
will obliterate all his past, and only remember that this day, for the
first time in his life, he has it not in his power to fulfil his word.
It will condemn him as if he were a common cheat, and brand him with
the disgraceful name of bankrupt." With increasing dismay Elise had
watched his countenance as he spoke. Now, for the first time, the
whole extent of the misfortune which was about to befall her father
seemed to enter her mind, and she felt trembling and crushed. She
could feel or think of nothing now but the evil which was rushing
in upon her parent, and with clasped hands and tears in her eyes she
asked Bertram if there was no more hope; if there was no one wh
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