She now remembered that letters from Dönninghausen to her mother had always been sent in an enclosure, and the address only of the envelope within had been written by her grandfather, and had always been 'To my daughter Agnes.' The Freiherr could not bring himself to write the hated name of the actor.
With a sigh, Johanna broke the seal and read:
"My dear Child,—Now that you are, as I learn, an orphan indeed, it seems to me a matter of course that you should come as soon as possible to your natural home,—that is, to my house. Write to me when you intend to start, that I may send you a suitable escort.
"Your affectionate grandfather,
"Johann Heinrich v. Dönninghausen."
Johanna's hands fell by her sides. Not one word of pity for her loss, of sympathy for the death of the famous artist, or of welcome for the unknown grandchild. No, she could never find a home in a house where her father's name was despised!
But then she recalled what her cousin Otto had said of her grandfather's noble nature, which his harsh exterior continually gainsaid. Perhaps it might be given to her to reconcile the old nobleman with her father's memory; and Magelone was there, witty and talented, and Cousin Otto made frequent visits to Dönninghausen. He would always pay to the dead the tribute of admiration which she coveted. Should she go? Her glance fell upon Lisbeth, sitting opposite her, her eyes fixed upon the ground, her little face sad with that look of misery which is so indescribably pathetic in a child. "No, I cannot leave my darling. What is Dönninghausen to me?" she said to herself, and clasped her sister in her arms.
Meanwhile, Otto had returned to his hotel, whence before leaving town he wrote to Magelone:
"Gracious Sovereign,—Your commands are obeyed. When I delivered our grandfather's letter I exercised in your behalf all the power of observation with which I am gifted, and can state, so far as can be learned in the limits of a brief interview, that the reality coincides with excellent Frau Werth's description. Our cousin is rather plain than pretty, but looks clever and distinguished, has quiet, pleasing manners,—in a word, she seems to me entirely presentable, and eminently adapted to indemnify you for the fatiguing society of your Knight of the Rueful Countenance.
"I seize this favourable opportunity for prostrating myself—only metaphorically, alas!—at the smallest feet in the world, and am, as ever, O fairest Magelone,
"Your cousin and slave,
"Otto."