She paused suddenly, rose, went to the window, came back again, and standing before Gotthold with her arms folded across her breast, said: "When I procured still larger supplies for his avarice, when I would have suffered myself and my child to be sold, though you would have been compelled to sacrifice the last penny of your fortune to buy our freedom--"
"You might have done so, and did not!" exclaimed Gotthold, in the most painful agitation.
"I might, and did not," replied Cecilia, "but certainly not because I doubted, for an instant, that you would, without hesitation, sacrifice all, all; such a doubt is inconceivable to a woman who knows herself beloved, nay, she would, under similar circumstances, go begging for her lover; but--it is useless, Gotthold, I shall never find words. Ah! the misery that is even denied the relief of expressing its agony, which must consume away in silent torture."
She wandered up and down the room, wringing her hands. Gotthold's mournful eyes followed her as she paced to and fro, and a feeling of intense bitterness welled up in his heart. There had been a possibility, but she had not seized it, and now it was too late.
He told her so, and why it was now too late, and that even if, by the income from his labor, he could satisfy the claims which others already had upon the small remnant of property that now remained, it would be a mere nothing to her husband's avarice, a sum which, if any one offered him, he would hurl back into his face with a scornful laugh.
Cecilia, pausing in the centre of the room, had listened eagerly, gasping for breath. "My poor Gotthold," said she; "but for me--it is better so, even the temptation cannot assail me now, and the matter is decided. Yes, Gotthold, it is decided; besides, perhaps it was only a momentary thirst for money, which the deadly hatred he bore you has long since swallowed up. He will not release me; I have not chosen, will not choose death as long as the last possibility of deliverance, flight, remains. Let me fly, Gotthold, before it is too late; do not detain me. You wish to save me, and are only driving me into the arms of death."
"I will keep you, save you, and tear you from the arms of death," cried Gotthold, clasping Cecilia's hands, "you and your child, whom you would kill, if, while ill and feverish, you exposed it to the dangers of a journey, which, under any circumstances, would be a useless cruelty, for he would know how to find you there or anywhere if he wants to do so--there as well as here, and therefore you must not stay here. You can remain nowhere, except under my protection, I repeat it. I will guard you. Cecilia, have you then no faith in me, my courage, my strength, my judgment? And I too cannot tell you all, how I intend to save you, will save you; I must beg you to let me take my own way, without explanation. Is not what is fair for women, right for men? May not cases occur for us also, in which we act as duty and honor command, and which we can confide only to a man? And, Cecilia, when I tell you that I have trusted to a man, to whom from childhood you have looked up with deep reverence, without suspecting that you owed him the respect so freely paid--and this man approves of my plan and resolution, and will himself do all in his power that the plan may not remain a plan, that the resolution may be executed--and this man will assure you of the fact with his own lips--Cecilia, I will bring this old man, your ancestor, to you, and when kneeling before him with his hand resting upon your head, the past, which seems as brazen and immutable as fate, reels and totters, you will perhaps believe that the present is not unalterably fixed for those who live and love!"
Gotthold hurried out of the room. Cecilia, trembling with a strange foreboding, gazed steadily at the door through which he had disappeared. It opened again: the tall form that entered was compelled to bend its head, and thus, with drooping head and downcast eyes, approached her. A strange conviction shot through her mind: even so had her father looked when he called her to his bedside an hour before he died, and at that moment he had resembled the picture of his grandfather, which hung in the sitting-room beside the old clock. Her knees trembled, and almost refused to support her, as he held out his hand.
Gotthold closed the door. The words spoken between the two must ever remain a secret.