Kitty threw down the cap she had in her hand and flew to her. She tenderly embraced the poor, weak form, wisely suppressing the tears that were ready to flow at sight of her sister's emaciated face.
Flora bit her lip. "Our youngest" had not only gained dignity of appearance, but her clear eyes and outspoken tongue gave token also of a courageous independence of thought and of speech that might possibly be inconvenient at times. She was aware of a sudden foreboding that with the advent of this vigorous girl a shadow was to fall upon her path. She hastily took off her hat and passed her fingers through the curls that had been flattened against her temples. "Did you really bring that poetic traveller's-bundle all the way from Dresden?" she asked, drily, with a glance at the knotted handkerchief hanging upon Kitty's arm.
The girl untied it and held out the dove to Henriette. "This little patient belongs to you," she said. "The poor thing has been shot in the wing. It fell upon the pavement in the mill-yard."
This betrayed her visit to the mill, but Frau von Urach did not appear to have heard her last words; she pointed indignantly to the wounded bird, and said to the councillor, in a tone of reproach, "That is the fourth, Moritz."
"And my pet besides, my little Silver-crest!" exclaimed Henriette, brushing away a tear of grief and vexation.
The councillor was quite pale with anger and dismay. "Dear grandmamma, I pray you do not blame me!" he cried, almost with violence. "I do my very best to trace these abominable outrages to their source, and to prevent them, but their perpetrators are concealed in the ranks of two hundred angry men,"—he shrugged his shoulders,—"and there is nothing to be done. Therefore I have repeatedly entreated Henriette to confine her doves until the excitement is over."
"Then it is we who are to submit? Better and better," said the old lady, satirically; and, as she spoke, she loosened and adjusted the cloud of lace about her face and throat, as if her agitation made her insufferably warm. "Can you not see, Moritz, that such compliance fairly challenges insolence? They will soon tire of permitted dove-shooting, and aim at some nobler game."
"Why dress the matter in such phrases, grandmamma? They themselves do not scruple to speak plainly," Flora remarked, carelessly. "My maid found another threatening letter on the window-sill when she opened the shutters this morning. She was forced to pick up the dirty scrap of paper with the tongs to let me read it, and it is now in her room, in case you wish it preserved, Moritz. Of course it contains nothing new,—the same old story! I should really like to know why these men honour me so especially with their hatred of a class."
Kitty could not help thinking that in this case the hatred was not so much of a class as of an individual. She could easily understand how this queenly figure, apparelled in rich garments, with scornful lines about her mouth and a masculine address, might well be held responsible by outsiders for all that emanated from the house.
"Their low attacks are all the more ridiculous, since I am particularly interested in the social question," Flora continued, with a short laugh, "and I have given to the world several telling articles in favour of the working-classes."