ll those whose doors usually stood open to him. Doubtless the news
of his recent severe losses were in every one's mouth, and the letter
which he had just received threatened him with an indictment.

The luckless Siebenburg's creditors, too, would now be added to his own.
It was all very well for him to say that he would settle his debts him
self. As soon as it was rumoured abroad that he had gambled away the
estate of Tannenreuth, whose value gave the creditors some security,
they would rise as one man, and the house assailed would be his, Casper
Eysvogel's.

The harried man's thoughts of his son-in-law were by no means the most
kindly.

Meanwhile the latter set out for the second distasteful interview of the
morning.

His purpose was to make some arrangement with Heinz Schorlin about the
lost estate and obtain definite knowledge concerning his quarrel
with him, of which he remembered nothing except that intoxication and
jealousy had carried him further than would have happened otherwise.
He had undoubtedly spoken insultingly of Els; his words, when uttered
against a lady, had been sharper than beseemed a knight. Yet was not
any one who found a maiden alone at night with this man justified
in doubting her virtue? In the depths of his soul he believed in her
innocence, yet he avoided confessing it. Why should not the Swiss,
whom Nature had given such power over the hearts of women, have also
entangled his brother-in-law's betrothed bride in a love affair? Why
should not the gay girl who had pledged her troth to a grave, dull
fellow like Wolff, have been tempted into a little love dalliance with
the bold, joyous Schorlin?

Not until he had received proof that he had erred would he submit to
recall his charges.

He had left his wife with fresh courage and full of good intentions. Now
that he was forced to bid her farewell, he first realised what she had
been to him. No doubt both had much to forgive, but she was a splendid
woman. Though her father's storehouses contained chests of spices and
bales of cloth, he did not know one more queenly. That he could have
preferred, even for a single moment, the Countess von Montfort, whose
sole advantage over her was her nimble tongue and gay, bold manners, now
seemed incomprehensible. He had joined Cordula's admirers only to forget
at her feet the annoyances with which he had been wearied at home. He
had but one thing for which to thank the countess--her remark concerning
th