"Manna, now is the time," said Roland, in great agitation.
"For what?"
"You ask father; perhaps he will tell you whether we have no blood-relations in Europe. Whoever they may be, they ought to come to us now. It is hard enough that we have never troubled ourselves about them."
Manna looked imploringly up to Eric, who, rightly discerning in the youth the instinctive longing for family ties, begged them to abstain from urging the matter for the present, saying that the time for it would come by and by.
Manna went to her father, and said that she wished to go to the convent.
Sonnenkamp was alarmed, but quickly regained his composure on Manna's adding that she went thither for the last time, in order to bid farewell forever, as she had decided never to become a nun.
In spite of all its distortion, a gleam of triumphant satisfaction lighted up Sonnenkamp's face.
"Do you see at last? They knew—I now have certain evidence that they knew—what money, and in what manner earned, you brought them. Did they ever say a word to you about being unable to accept it?"
Manna avoided this view of the question. She would gladly have confessed all to her father at once, but had not yet the courage. Moreover, she had promised Eric to follow his guidance implicitly.
The weather was foggy and cold, as the brother and sister, and Fräulein Perini, went down the river: yet the journey refreshed them, for Roland said after a short time,—