“Oh, I wish I was dead—dead, and with dear papa,” she murmured brokenly, for she was too wretched to cry.
She must go and go at once. Anna must not suffer because of her. She had come between her and her good husband who loved her. Anton Schreiber was right. His wife and his home were his, and she had no right here.
But where should she go? Ah, that was a hard question to answer. She would not go back to Weimar, and she knew nobody anywhere else. If only Donald were here—he would surely help her. She must go to some big city where no one would know her and where she could easily hide herself. But if she went with Anna’s knowledge, that dear woman would suspect she had overheard the quarrel. She must leave without her knowing it.
Her mind made up she stepped quietly down the stairs and out of the house to the rear where the Schreibers’ little maid-of-all-work had her room. The girl adored the Fräulein Barton and would do anything she asked. Helène bound her to secrecy. She was going to Munich on a visit, she told her, and didn’t want Frau Schreiber to know. Could she get anyone who would take her trunk to the station? The girl smiled. Of course she could. The butcher’s boy would do it for her any time. When? She’d bring him that evening at eight o’clock. He could bring the trunk downstairs to the laundry and in the morning he’d come round with his cart and take it away. Her Hermann would do it for a thaler—not for him, but for the porter at the station. That settled it.
Helène returned to the front door and entering noisily called out for “Mamma Anna” as she usually did to announce her arrival.
“Where are you, ‘Mamma Anna,’” she called up the stairs.
“I’m resting in my room,” came the reply.
“Well, I’m going to write some letters. Call me when supper is ready.”
“I will, dear Comtesse.”
Once in her room Helène commenced packing her belonging quietly, but rapidly. It took but a little time and the trunk locked, she carefully moved it, inch by inch, until she had succeeded in placing it at the head of the back staircase where the maid’s Hermann would be sure to find it.