“Your grandfather, miss, a short time after his return from Egypt, where he had been sojourning on account of his health, found waiting for him a letter from Mr. Garlett. I have it here. Perhaps you are familiar with its contents?... No?... Then, will you please read it?”
With a throbbing heart Franka took the letter and unfolded it. The beloved handwriting! It was like a greeting from beyond the grave. She read:—
To the Count of Sielen:—
For almost a generation I have been to you like one vanished. Never have I attempted to approach you. As it were, an abyss lay between us—we had both inflicted the utmost pain on the other: you, by your harsh repudiation of my beloved wife, who died in consequence of it—I to you, by robbing you of your daughter. As long as we lived we could not pardon each other.
But in the presence of death, all resentment, pride, and everything of the sort which are the bitter prerogatives of the living, disappear.
This letter comes into your hands only in case death has stricken me before my Franka is provided for; such is the name of my daughter, your grandchild. Orphaned, left without a farthing, she might be exposed to the deepest poverty and the greatest dangers. This thought is my sorrow and my torment. The maiden is sweet and good and highly educated, and—as you cannot read coldly—she has grown up to be the image of her mother—feature for feature. Graf Sielen, I beg of you: look after the young girl. Do not let her suffer want or ruin.
The signature, with date and address, followed. Having read it through, Franka gazed at the sheet for a long time.
Dr. Fixstern awakened her out of her thoughts:—
“Would you like to know, miss, how His Excellency responds to this letter of your father—a letter which, it must be said, is very effective by reason of its brevity?”
A warm stream of joy expanded Franka’s heart. The lawyer had already informed her that he had pleasant news for her: so it was clear that her grandfather was going to look after her: there would be some one to love her again....