"Gnädiges Fräulein?"
"I must speak to you."
"Me?" Egbert thought that he could not have heard aright, but she repeated in the same tone:
"Speak with you alone--please let me!"
"I am yours to command."
She took the precedence, he following her into the parlor. There was nobody there, and even if any one had appeared, the meeting might have passed for an accidental one. Cecilia had stepped up to the fireplace, as though she wanted to take refuge from the sunshine, which poured in its bright golden rays, through the lofty windows. A few minutes passed ere she spoke. Runeck, too, was silent; his eyes scanning her countenance, which was so entirely different from what it had appeared earlier.
Eric was right; the radiantly beautiful creature that he had brought home as his promised bride had strangely altered. She was no longer the gay, captivating girl, whose whole being sparkled with high spirits and the joy of existence. A pale, trembling girl leaned against the marble pillars upon which rested the mantelpiece, with downcast eyes, a painfully drawn look about the mouth, and she sought after words that would not cross her lips.
"I wanted to write to you, Herr Runeck," she finally began. "Then I heard to-day that you were in the Manor-house, and determined to speak to you in person. There is need of an explanation between us."
She paused, seeming to expect an answer, but as Egbert only bowed in silence, she continued with visible effort: "I must recall to your mind our interview on the Whitestone; you will have forgotten it as little as I have forgotten the words, the threats which you hurled at me. They were darkly mysterious to me at the time and are still so, even now; but, from that hour, I have known you to be the implacable foe of my brother and myself----"
"Not of you, Baroness!" exclaimed Egbert. "I had been in grievous error, which was explained away at that time. I begged your pardon, which, however, you would not grant. My words like my threats had reference to another."