With these words he had ridden away, and Gotthold had taken his painting utensils, in order to have an excuse for leaving the house and wandering through the woods and along the sea-shore; he strolled restlessly on without any definite purpose, until he recollected that he had heard from the old fisherman, Carl Peters, of Ralow, that Cousin Boslaf would return from his expedition to Sundin this very evening. Carl Peters must know, for the old man had given him the key of the beach-house, that he might light the lamp in the evening and keep watch at night; besides, Carl Peters' son had accompanied Cousin Boslaf on his expedition. So Gotthold went to the beach-house and sat down to wait on the bluff in the shadow of the beeches; but the sea broke upon the shore with such a melancholy, monotonous cadence, the sunny hours dragged along so slowly, and besides, if he wanted to tell her that he had decided to leave Dollan to-morrow instead of Monday, this was the right time.
"The mistress is in the garden with Gretchen," said pretty Rieke; "you know her favorite seat."
Gotthold looked quietly at the girl, who hastily averted her face. The last remark was at least superfluous, for the garden was not so large that any one could not easily find the person he sought; but moreover Rieke had spoken in a tone which jarred upon Gotthold's ear. He had often thought the girl's merry gray eyes wandered from him to Cecilia, and from Cecilia back to him, with a watchful glance, and she had several times entered the room quickly, or approached them elsewhere, always with the question whether they had called her. He had remembered Cecilia's words on the first evening of their meeting, "She repeats everything," and mentally added: "She shall have nothing to tell."
"Well, her amusement will be over to-morrow," he thought to himself, as he went slowly up the walk, bordered on each side with hedges, towards a small spot, also surrounded with hedges and adorned with beds of flowers, where Cecilia usually remained at this hour with her child.
Gretchen came running to meet him as soon as she caught sight of him.
"Where have you been, Uncle Gotthold? What have you brought me?"
He was always in the habit of bringing the child some rare flower, oddly shaped pebble, or other curiosity on his return from his rambles; but to-day, for the first time, he had not thought of it. Gretchen was very indignant "I don't love you any more," she said, running back to her mother; "and mamma shan't love you either!" she exclaimed, raising her little head from her mother's lap.
Gotthold, after greeting Cecilia, had seated himself at a short distance from her on another bench, as he always did if she did not invite him to take his place beside her. She had not done so to-day, and scarcely looked up from her work when she silently gave him her hand. It had made a painful impression upon him, but as he watched her quietly, he thought he noticed that her eyelids were red. Had she wished to conceal the traces of recent tears, to hide the fact that she could still weep, that the cold expressionless glance with which she now seemed to look beyond him towards the child, who was playing at the other end of the glade, was not the only expression of which the eyes which had formerly beamed with such a gentle light were now capable?
"I can bear it no longer," the young man murmured to himself.
He had risen and approached Cecilia, who, as he came up, drew her dress away, although there was plenty of room on the large seat.