But Carl Brandow was only talking in order to conceal from his guest the anxiety that oppressed him. Would it not have been better to have told her of his design, even at the risk of her opposition, or, still worse, of affording her pleasure? Ought he not at least to have taken advantage of the last opportunity, and prepared her for the visit by Hinrich Scheel, instead of expressly commanding him to be silent? Or would the clever fellow once more, as he had often done, follow his own counsel and guide an ill-managed affair into the right course? And yet, what could happen if he suddenly appeared before her with him? Would she give him the lie in the presence of her guest, say she had known nothing about his visit, and her husband had told an untruth? It was certainly possible; but woe be unto her if she did so.
"Here we are," said Carl Brandow, as they reached the old linden before the door. "Welcome to Dollan! Welcome!"
He had spoken in a very loud tone, standing in the open doorway, and now shouted, raising his clear voice to its highest pitch, "Hinrich, Fritz!--where are they all?"
But there was no movement within the house, and no one appeared in the courtyard.
"It is always just so on Sundays," said Brandow, "Everybody runs wild, especially if the master is away from home. Rike! Hinrich! Fritz!"
A half-grown lad, in a dirty red waistcoat and top boots, now came running across the courtyard, and at the same moment a young girl appeared from the house. Brandow received both with angry words. The girl answered pertly: she had been with the mistress, who could not quiet the child; it was still crying about its arm; and the boy muttered as he took the horse's bridle: he had been obliged to help Hinrich about Brownlock; he was threatened with the colic.
"Deuce take it!" cried Brandow; "that damned Hinrich, this is what I get by letting him have his own way! I must leave you alone a moment, or will you come with me?"
Brandow did not wait for Gotthold's reply, but hurried across the courtyard with long strides. He must know what was the matter with Brownlock. And then: Cecilia had enough to do in the nursery; she would not come out at present.
"What is the matter with the child?" asked Gotthold.
"She fell down just as the mistress got home, and has probably broken her arm," said the girl, who had been gazing curiously at the stranger with her merry gray eyes, and now hurried back into the house.