But she did not find him at the door, where she had left him. Besides, the door was not a suitable place to continue the interesting conversation, and the hall was equally undesirable. Perhaps he was in the dining-room. He was not there; the trees in the garden, into which she cast a glance, were tossing quite too rudely. Where could he have gone? Where, except to his own room, to look after the things he had left there! She must help him; he could not find anything in the dark.
The pretty servant-girl drew a long breath, and then in the twinkling of an eye glided noiselessly up the stairs and across the hall to the gable room Gotthold had occupied during his stay. Here she paused, pressing her hands to her burning cheeks and heaving breast, and then after a low knock, to which she expected no reply, slowly opened the door, as if with timid reluctance. Her cheeks had burned, her heart had throbbed in vain-the room was empty. She went to the window, and instantly drew back again. There, close beneath her, in the children's playground, was the man she sought, cautiously approaching the window from which a faint, varying light fell upon the tree-trunks; and then he disappeared--where, except through the nursery to her? She had not given the two hypocrites credit for that; they knew how to help themselves, to be sure! It was too shameless! Then the promise he had made her several times, but which she had not really believed, that he would make her his wife if the other was once out of the way, might come true. At any rate, he should know it; they deserved nothing better.
"What does this mean?" cried Hans Redebas, as Brandow, with a hasty apology, rose from the table just as the cards had been cut.
"I'll come back directly," answered Brandow.
"That we should have expected," shouted Redebas. "Pastor, another glass!" Brandow left the table unwillingly; he had been winning considerable sums, and his gambler's superstition warned him that he ought, not to turn his back upon the game; but Rieke had beckoned to him over Hans Redebas' shock of black hair-something particularly important must have happened.
He followed the girl into the hall, and from thence into the sitting-room on the left, where she told him by signs to step lightly, until they reached the narrow door that opened into Cecilia's sleeping-room. A faint ray of light gleamed through the crack over the threshold. The girl crouched down and put her ear to the door. Brandow stood bending over her, also listening. They could distinctly hear some one speaking, but neither who it was, nor what was said. But what did it matter? To whom could she speak here, except to him? What could they say except what they dared not suffer others to hear? And now the light grew brighter--they had entered the sleeping-room. Brandow trembled from head to foot with jealous fury. Should he rush in and strangle the pair, expose them to open shame? But Gotthold was no longer the feeble boy of former days; the result of a conflict with him, man to man, was at least doubtful, and he had certainly already received his pay. The disgrace would cling to him, and--it was too late! The barking of the dog, which made him and his accomplice fly from the door, must have warned them too; he would find the nest empty. Be it so; he had heard enough.
"Well?" said Rieke, when they had glided back through the sitting-room and were again standing in the hall.
"Go in, and say I will come directly," replied Brandow.
The tone in which he spoke predicted some evil; Rieke was almost sorry for what she had done. "He isn't like you," she said soothingly, with the most perfect sincerity.
Brandow laughed scornfully. "Go in," he repeated, stamping his foot.