Otto detained her. "I will not let you go!" he exclaimed, in a low, passionate tone. "I will see the tears that make me happy! We will indemnify ourselves for this last piece of good fortune of which chance tries to rob us. You will not always be embroidering or walking with Elfrida. Since I must be on service at Klausenburg for a part of every day, we can meet daily in the forest, and see each other where all these eyes are not upon us!"
He confronted her in a window-recess, and held both her hands fast in his own. She tried to extricate herself. "Let me go! let me go! What you say is odious!" she whispered.
At this moment Johanna appeared. "Are you quarrelling again?" she asked. "What is the matter now?"
"It is Otto's fault; he is so rude. Poor Johanna, you will have a hard time with him!" Magelone said; and as she passed Otto she gave him a glance compounded of forgiveness and provocation.
It had rained. The Freiherr, who dreaded the damp air, retired to try to get a nap after the second breakfast, and Johanna, taking advantage of her liberty, had Elinor saddled, and rode towards the Forest Hermitage to ask after Christine.
The lonely ride did her good. The weight that had of late oppressed her heart, the vague sensation of estrangement between Otto and herself, vanished in the bright fulness of life that encompassed her here in the forest on every hand. She thirstily drank eager draughts of the pungent air exhaled in the sunshine by the drenched earth; she listened delightedly when amid the humming, buzzing, twittering, and chirping around her she distinguished the merry song of the finch, the call of the wild dove, or the shrill, exultant note of the black thrush as it echoed through the woods. The voices of the birds awakened a thousand happy memories within her. "Otto!" she whispered, and soul and body thrilled with ecstasy. Yes, all doubt and suspicion were treachery, a sin against the Giver of such 'good and perfect gifts.'
She rode on as in a dream, and yet her soul and sense were never more alive and open to the rich life about her. Not a note in the delicious symphony of spring escaped her ear; no play of colour was lost to her eye in the million glittering drops tossed by the breeze from the branches.
Suddenly Leo began to bark, and Elinor pricked her ears. There was a rustling in the bushes on one side of the way; a man appeared from them and lifted his cap. It was Red Jakob.
Johanna reined in her horse. "Good-morning!" she said, kindly. "How is Christine? I am on my way to her."