It was long since she had seen her protégés. The Freiherr had not forbidden her to visit them, but it vexed him to hear them mentioned. Therefore, when she crossed the forest path upon her road home from Tannhagen with her grandfather, she did not venture to turn into it. She learned from Otto, who now and then brought her a greeting from Christine, that the couple were content and happy, and she should be glad to hear this from Christine herself.
But she found an invalid. An old woman opened the door for her, with a curtsey. The young wife lay on the sofa, propped with pillows, her face pale and wan, her eyes dim, and the hand she held out to Johanna burned with fever.
"Christine, what has been the matter?" Johanna exclaimed, in dismay. "When Herr Otto saw you a week ago he brought me such good news of you!"
Christine's eyes wore an anxious, terrified expression. "I was taken ill just afterwards," she answered, in a weak voice. "But please, Fräulein, say nothing about it now: I hear Jakob coming; he is too anxious, and I am a great deal better."
Her husband entered. Johanna was startled by his gloomy, haggard looks.
"The gracious Fruleen!" he cried, and tore off his hat.
Johanna thought she detected a shade of reproach in his tone. "I did not know that Christine was ill, or I should have come long ago," she said. "Why did you not send me word? I should have been so glad to do something for her."
"Thanks, gracious Fruleen," he replied; "she has wanted for nothing. The Klausenburg doctor has been here every day, and she has had plenty of medicine,—there, little one, is a fresh bottleful,—and she shall have whatever she wants to eat and drink, if I have to run miles for it." He laughed, and ran his fingers through his bushy red hair, so that it stood out all over his head.
Christine looked at him beseechingly. "Yes, yes, Fräulein," she said, "he has tended me as if I were a princess. He is on his feet day and night."
"That's the part you tell!" he interrupted her; "but that it is all my fault——"