The second dinner-bell had rung, and Bertram still sat staring at the letter. Could this be true? It looked like witchcraft. By what wonderful ingenuity had his friend rightly interpreted the state of his heart, judging from hints which were not intended to be hints at all? Well, if it was a miracle, it was a very auspicious one--one that could only have had its origin in the great strength of truest friendship. Impossible for the tempter to have assumed the guise of the best and noblest of men!
He pressed the letter to his lips, and gazed upward to the blue sky. And, lo! as he moved, the gossamer thread floated away from his shoulder, away into the sunny afar.
With glowing eye he followed its flight.
"Right, right! Fly and float with it, ye cowardly thoughts of retreat! Who fears not death has already half won the battle!"
XIII.
Below, in the garden saloon, Bertram found only Otto and the Baron, who abruptly stopped an eager conversation as Bertram entered. Otto looked greatly embarrassed; the Baron gave him one angry look, then turned away to the young ladies, who were walking on the verandah.
"I seem to have disturbed you," said Bertram.
"Don't be annoyed," replied Otto. "The Baron had, last night already, disagreeable news from home, which is confirmed to-day, and will compel him to travel back; and just now, in this time of tension, he wishes of course--it is extremely awkward ..."
"In one word, he has officially asked you for your daughter's hand?"
"Not exactly officially; we really do not know about Erna. You had undertaken to put us au courant, to advise and help us, and now you are not helping us at all, and--and my wife is rather annoyed with you on this ground."