With these whispered words he conducted his friend to the door. Wolfgang silently obeyed; he sent into the room the old maid-servant, whom he found in the hall, and then went out into the open air, but there was a dark cloud on his brow. Who could have foreseen such an issue!
A quarter of an hour might have elapsed, when Benno Reinsfeld again made his appearance. He was very pale, and his eyes, usually so clear, were suffused.
"Well?" Wolfgang asked, quickly.
"It is all over!" the young physician replied in an undertone. "A stroke of apoplexy, undoubtedly mortal. I saw that at once."
Wolfgang was apparently unprepared for this reply; his lips quivered as he said in a strained voice, "The affair is intensely painful, Benno, although I am not in the least to blame. I went to work with the greatest caution. The president must be informed."
"Certainly; he is the only near relative, so far as I know. I shall stay with the poor child, who is suffering intensely. Will you undertake to send a messenger to Heilborn?"
"I will drive over myself to inform Nordheim. Farewell."
"Farewell," said Benno, as he returned to the house.
Wolfgang turned to go, but suddenly paused and walked slowly to the window, which was half open.
Within the room Erna was on her knees, with her hands clasped about her father's body. The passionate man who had been standing here but one short quarter of an hour ago in full vigour, obstinately resisting a necessity, now lay motionless, all unconscious of the despairing tears of his orphan child. Fate had decreed that his words should be true; Wolkenstein Court had remained in the possession of the ancient race whose cradle it had been until the last Thurgau had closed his eyes forever.