And they spoke also of her who lay at present above-stairs, in Henriette's sitting-room, the castle miller's granddaughter; they knew that her entire fortune had been kept in the tower. Upon this theme the Frau President in her nervous agitation did not care to speculate; what was the old miller's hoarded wealth to her? Flora, on the contrary, maintaining an entire self-possession in spite of the horrors of the day, pondered long upon the possible consequences to her half-sister of the destruction of the safe in the tower.
There was an angry frown upon her brow as she came down from the third story about ten o'clock in the evening. She, the admired centre of a large and aristocratic circle, the beautiful woman whose intellectual force and ripe judgment had been the wonder of her acquaintances, had been obliged, to her intense disgust, to play the pitiable part of a supernumerary in the sick-room. In addition to Henriette, who had taken up her position on a couch and would not consent to leave the room, the dean's widow had made her appearance as Kitty's nurse. She had sought refuge in the villa, for the house by the river being the nearest to the tower had suffered much from the explosion; the chimneys had been thrown down, the southern wall was much damaged, the windows were shivered to pieces, and none of the doors would latch or bolt. The friend and companion had gone with the maid to Susy, at the mill, and the doctor had left two watchmen to guard the house during the night.
There had been no place for Flora at the wounded girl's bedside. At the head sat the dean's widow, her eyes red with weeping, and opposite her the doctor. "The old woman" had behaved as if the trifling injury that Kitty had sustained were the gravest consequence of the disaster, and the doctor had never stirred from his post, only relinquishing his clasp of Kitty's hand when the bandage upon her brow needed renewing. It required more patience and self-control than Flora had at command to look quietly on at such anxious care bestowed upon "a tall, robust girl, with nerves and muscles inherited from the former woodcutter's daughter."
Weary of the perpetual whispering, and perceiving that there was no sensible word to be extorted from all these frightened people, the beautiful woman had at last left the room alone and greatly irritated: the doctor had not even accompanied her to the door. Of course she did not go to bed; she took off her evening dress, and, putting on a white cashmere dressing-gown, reclined towards morning upon her crimson lounge.
The former study looked desolate and dreary enough. The black writing-table had been emptied of all its papers, and stood dusty in the recess by the window; most of the books had been taken from the shelves and were packed in boxes in the middle of the floor; the pedestals were overturned, while, over all, the hanging lamp but carelessly lighted by the servants threw a pale uncertain gleam, which, now that the morning air and dawning light came freshly in through the broken panes of glass, swung to and fro in its white globe like the last faint spark of fire from the ruins.
When the day had fairly broken, Flora sent up-stairs to request the doctor to come to her, and as his firm, military step was heard in the corridor she hastily arranged her curls beneath her lace morning cap, leaned back among the crimson cushions, and looked from under her half-closed eyelids towards the door by which he was to enter.
He came in. Never had she seen him thus, and involuntarily, mechanically, she arose as if to greet a stranger.
"I am not well, Leo," she said with hesitation, not turning her glance of surprise from his face, which although pale and weary was as if inspired by some light from within that had totally changed its character. "My head burns; fright and wet feet must have brought on an attack of fever." She added this uncertainly, whilst his eyes dwelt upon her with the cool searching gaze of the physician. The look irritated her.
"Have a care, Bruck!" she said, in a perfectly calm tone, but her breath came quick, and her finely pencilled eyebrows contracted so that two deep lines showed between them. "For months I have borne to see that your practice is your best beloved, to which I am subordinate." She shrugged her shoulders. "I can foresee that such must be my fate, and possess magnanimity enough to acquiesce in it, since such devotion to his profession will bring fame to the man whose name I shall bear." She turned her head as she spoke with a haughty air, as if looking through a world filled with his renown. "But I protest against being set aside when I have need of your medical skill," she continued. "We have all suffered from the terrible catastrophe. It was my task, and one of indescribable difficulty, to protect and soothe grandmamma, who was half insane with terror, and Henriette; and yet it has never occurred to you to ask, 'How have you borne all this?'"
"I have not asked because I know you pride yourself upon subordinating all emotion to the intellect, and because I can see at a glance how little your physical condition has been affected."