Aunt Thekla looked beseechingly at her nephew. "Do not be angry with her; you have each misunderstood the other," she began. But he interrupted her: "I am not angry, and I have not misunderstood her. On the contrary, I know what she wishes and needs, and I mean, so far as I can, to help her and Otto. Pray tell her this in your kind, gentle way. You see I am too awkward to do so."
With these words he kissed her hand, and went into the house.
The old lady looked after him in painful perplexity. At first it seemed to her advisable to explain to him his error. But what could she say to him? Only that Magelone had been determined to marry him. If he should wish to know more, if he should ask, 'does she love me?' what could she reply? And even if he did not ask this, if he deceived himself for the time, must he not sooner or later—too late, perhaps—discover that she did not love him? And would she, who for a fleeting fancy had not hesitated to destroy Johanna's happiness, could she sacredly guard Johann Leopold's happiness and honour?
"If I only knew what was right!" sighed Aunt Thekla. And it was only after long reflection that she found consolation in the conclusion that if it was the purpose of the Almighty that Johann Leopold and Magelone should be united, they would be so in spite of all misunderstandings, and without any help from an old woman.
While she was reflecting thus, Johann Leopold was standing at the open window of his room, and as he looked abroad over the dark masses of foliage of the park, and up to the shining stars whose rising and setting he had so often watched from this very window, there came over him for the first time that mighty feeling of home which at once absorbs and expands all individuality. His grandfather was suddenly more comprehensible to him than ever before, and the task to which the old man had devoted himself for half a century—the weal and welfare of Dönninghausen—appeared to him in a new light. For years Johann Leopold had longed for loftier aims and a wider sphere of activity. Debarred from much by his state of health, he had disdained what was within his reach. This should be so no longer! He would show his grandfather that he was the heir not only of his estates, but of his views and intentions.
A knock at the door aroused him from his revery, and upon his 'Come in,' Otto entered the room.
"Is it you?" Johann Leopold exclaimed, as he went to meet his late visitor, and he offered him his hand with some hesitation. Otto scarcely touched the tips of his fingers.
"Pardon my taking you by surprise at this unseasonable hour," he said, as he threw his hat and gloves upon the table and himself into a chair. "When our grandfather's message arrived I sent word that I was not at home; for"—and he pushed back the damp curls from his forehead and turned upon Johann Leopold a face that looked strangely pale and haggard in the lamp-light—"I could not possibly sit opposite you at table and pull an amiable face when——I am in a scrape again, and if you do not help me——But what good would it do? Better a terrible end than terror without end!"
"Fudge! Speak intelligibly!" Johann Leopold interposed, taking a seat opposite Otto. And when the latter only stared into space in silence, he added, "You have been gambling?"
"Yes, I have been gambling," the other replied, lifting his head and gazing at his cousin with a dark glow in his eyes. "Drag along, as I do, from morning until night, through days that bring you nothing but one tedious occupation after another, and with nothing to look forward to except the same dull round in the same d—d tread-mill, for as long, at least, as your fate depends upon the whims of a narrow-minded, stubborn old man——"