"Your old enemy," he said almost aloud to himself, "has come back, and that is nothing but your unhappy brooding imagination."
Eric himself had no greater pleasure in embracing his mother again, than Roland and Manna felt.
"You and Aunt Claudine," cried Roland, "are dearer to me than all the trees in the park, the house, and everything else. You too have been staying here faithfully, waiting for us to come home. How good it is to have you here, that we may have some one to receive us when we come back!"
The boy's whole heart swelled with inward happiness.
Manna said nothing, but her look showed how deeply she felt the peaceful influence of the two ladies. She found in this little home some of the rest she had found in the convent, and yet here no outward vows had been taken; these two women were completely free. By little and little, she told the mother about Professor Einsiedel, and rejoiced her by showing her appreciation of the deep consecration of spirit to which this student of science had attained.
Sonnenkamp was more thoughtful than ever. This striving after a title seemed to him a loss of independence, a loss that he was voluntarily incurring. He returned from the Baths with the impression, that he should be always treated by the nobles themselves as a stranger and an interloper, and would always have to be on his guard against misconstruction of his smallest actions. The words of the Banker rang in his ears: Every one should hold fast to the distinction of being a self-made man.
Was it not better that a man should be the source of his own honor, than that he should allow it to be conferred upon him by another?
Here he was brought up before an insurmountable wall. He was vexed at having to worry and brood so over the matter, yet he could not dismiss it from his mind. He had just come to the resolution of begging the Cabinetsrath to give it all up, when he received a letter from him, saying that the matter might be considered as in a fair way of being satisfactorily concluded.
Sonnenkamp looked about him when he had read the words. Now he had it in his grasp, and he would throw it from him. There would be more greatness, more satisfaction, in that than accepting it. But then what would become of Frau Ceres, Manna, and Roland? How could he draw back? For a moment the thought passed through his mind that he would sell all his property here and remove to Switzerland, France, or Italy. But he imagined the longing he would feel to be back here again; he felt that the social position and consideration to which he had grown accustomed here, had become a necessity to him. He walked among the trees which he had planted, which he had trained and cared for, and felt that they had grown to be a part of himself; he looked towards the Rhine, and was conscious of that magic power of attraction which takes possession of every one who has once made his home beside it.
Forward! he cried to himself. The ball has been set rolling and must reach its goal!