Perfect recovery, however, came but slowly. Only gradually did his memory of people and events begin to revive. One morning when his grandfather was sitting beside him he suddenly said, "Johanna!" and after a while he added, "I want to see her; let her come to me."
"Yes, my dear boy, I will send her to you," the Freiherr replied; "but send for Magelone too, or she will be hurt."
"Magelone!" he repeated, and his eyes expressed distress. "Magelone! No, no, she must not come! I will not see her. It is all her fault."
The Freiherr was startled. Johann Leopold was more seriously ill than he had supposed. "I will send Johanna," he said, rising; but the patient refused now to see even her. "No; send Dr. Werner," he said, fretfully. "I want him; he is the only one who knows what is good for me."
The next morning he insisted upon seeing Johanna, and she went to him.
"Sit down; I have much to say to you," he said, after her first greeting. "Pray, Aunt Thekla, leave us alone."
The old lady withdrew with an air of surprise. Johann Leopold lay still, staring before him, while Johanna contemplated him with compassion. His sunken temples, his neglected beard, his haggard eyes, made him still look very ill.
"Red Jakob,—what do you know of him?" he asked at last.
"I asked Ludwig—Dr. Werner, I mean—to take your place there," she replied. "You can depend upon him——"
"I know that," he interrupted her. "Well, what does he think?—how is Jakob?"