The sun had set, but a golden haze enveloped valley, mountain and river, when Eric went with the servant, and from the corridor looked out over the distant prospect. He was conducted through several rooms. In the last, where a ground-glass hanging-lamp was lighted, he heard the words, "I thank you,—be seated."
He saw Frau Ceres reclining on a divan, a large rocking-chair standing before her. Eric sat down.
"I have remained at home on your account," Frau Ceres began; she had a feeble, timid voice, and it was evidently, difficult for her to speak.
Eric was at a loss what to reply.
Suddenly she sat upright, and asked,—
"Are you acquainted with my daughter?"
"No."
"But you've been to the convent on the island?"
"Yes; I had a greeting to deliver from my mother to the Lady Superior—nothing farther."
"I believe you. I am not the cause of her becoming a nun—no, not I—do not think it," and reclining again on the pillow, Frau Ceres continued,—