"No, no; you shall be my son!" Herr von Heydeck exclaimed. "God grants me thus an opportunity of repairing the grievous wrong I did you. My Hilda will atone for my sin. She will be to you the angel of light which her sainted mother was to me!"
Again he was overcome by mingled emotions of joy and sorrow. His conscience had been burdened with the consciousness of his guilt; he had trembled at the thoughts of discovery for years, and he could not bear the sudden joy of this moment. Again he sobbed convulsively, only stammering, in broken accents, "Leave me now, my children. I must be alone. God bless you!"
Paul drew Hilda away from the room, knowing how greatly the old man must stand in need of repose, and the girl, not venturing to oppose her father's request, went with him willingly.
When however the study-door was closed behind them she paused. "What is the matter with my father? What wrong can he have done? Why should he be so overcome?" she asked, with an appealing look into her lover's eyes.
Paul clasped her tenderly in his arms. "Do you not believe, dearest, that I love you infinitely more than life?" he asked.
"Yes; I trust you implicitly."
"Then promise me, in this supreme moment, that you will never again ask me what your father's words meant. It is not my secret but his, and I could not in honour betray it even to you. But I swear solemnly that it is the only secret that shall ever be between us,--no thought of my heart shall be concealed from you. Will you not trust me? Believe me, I but obey the dictates of honour when I beg you to forget what you have heard. Will you promise me never to question either myself or your father upon the subject?"
"This kiss shall seal the promise that you ask!"
Leo had conducted the guests to the garden, there to await Paul and Hilda; he tried to engage them in pleasant talk, but he could not fairly succeed, for his thoughts would wander. They were with his friend, the change in whom he could easily interpret, for he knew that Paul had just had an interview with Dr. Putzer; and that the result had been a happy one for Hilda's lover, was plainly to be seen in his sparkling eyes and gay mood. And Paul had also had an interview with Bertram, which must have been satisfactory, or he would hardly have uttered the laughing remark about the treasures in his pockets. What did he mean? He had glanced so meaningly as he spoke, first at Eva and then at Leo. Heydeck was restless and impatient,--he guessed that one short hour might decide his fate, and yet he could not understand how the decision could be fortunate for him. He could conceive but of one happy future, and that seemed unattainable. He loved Eva with a passionate devotion which the familiar intercourse of the past few weeks had deepened tenfold. He knew that his love was returned, although no word that could betray his devotion to her had ever passed his lips. He had never transgressed the bounds of friendship, nor had she ever given him the slightest right to do so.
The consciousness that she was not indifferent towards him enchanted him, but at the same time it filled him with a despair that would often wellnigh overcome him when he was alone in his room standing in rapt contemplation of the picture,--the work not of his hand but of his heart. Eva's dark eyes gazed at him from the canvas with a look that seemed to promise the fulfilment of his boldest hopes, and in gazing he was sometimes beguiled into delicious dreams, from which he was startled by the consciousness of reality, and a stern voice within him crying, "Lost, lost forever!"