"I knew how you would choose!" the girl exclaimed, eagerly. "I never doubted it!"
"Ah, you did me that justice, then!" Wolfgang said, with undisguised bitterness. "I hardly expected it of you."
She made no reply, but there was reproach in her eyes; at last she said, with hesitation, "And---what now?"
"Now I stand just where I did a year ago. The path which you once pointed out to me with such enthusiasm lies open before me, and I shall pursue it, but alone,--entirely alone."
Erna shivered slightly at his last words, but apparently she did not choose to understand them; she interposed, hastily, "A man like yourself is not alone. He has his talents and his future, and the future before you is so grand and----"
"And as dreary and sunless as that mountain-world," he completed her sentence, pointing to the autumnal, cloudy landscape. "But I have no right to complain. It came to meet me once, happiness, brilliant and sunlit, and I turned my back upon it to attain another goal. Then it spread its wings and departed, soaring to unattainable heights; and although I would give my very life for it, it never will come back to me. Those who trifle with it lose it forever."
There was dull, aching misery in his voice as he made this confession, but Erna had no word of reply for him, and no glance for the eyes seeking her own. Pale and rigid, she gazed abroad into the misty distance. Yes, he knew now where for him lay rest and happiness,--now, when it was too late!
Wolfgang laid his hand upon the horse's mane: "Erna, one question before we part. After my final interview with your uncle to-morrow I shall, of course, not enter his house again, and you are going far away with your husband. Do you look for happiness at his side?"
"At least I hope to confer happiness."
"And you?"