"Thank you; I should like to sleep," was Johanna's reply.
Magelone helped her take off her hat and wraps. "Then lie down here,"—and she led her to a huge lounge,—"and I will see that you are not disturbed until it is time to dress for dinner."
She turned to go. Johanna took both her hands. "Thanks!" she said, with emotion; "your reception of me has done me so much good——"
"But you have not yet called me Magelone!" was the laughing interruption. "But don't force yourself to it,—it will come of itself." With these words she kissed the young girl's forehead and left her alone.
"She is charming," thought Johanna, as her weary head sank back among the cushions. "If every one here is as kind, I have been very silly to have any dread of Dönninghausen." And she fell asleep with a lightened heart, the rumble and rush of the railroad train still buzzing in her ears.
Suddenly she started. "Ten minutes for refreshments!" had just rung through her dream. She awoke to find herself, to her surprise, in the spacious dim room. The door opened, and an old gentleman entered, with a large dog beside him.
"Grandfather!" she cried, and would have risen.
He approached her quickly. "Sit still! sit still!" he said, with a commanding gesture, as he took a seat beside her couch. "My old Christian tells me that you are exhausted with your journey, and therefore I came here to see you, and to release you, if you like, from coming to dinner to-day."
Whilst the Freiherr spoke, his cold blue eyes rested searchingly upon the girl. She bore the look bravely.
"Thank you, that is not necessary; my sleep has greatly refreshed me," she replied.