"The Frau Countess is not well," the servant said.
Bernhard hurried up the stairs to Thea's room. At the door he met the family physician.
"Is my wife ill?" he asked, hastily.
"Nothing serious at present," the old man replied. "Countess Eichhof cannot for the moment sustain the terrible nervous shock. I have ordered perfect rest,--her best medicine next to your arrival, my dear Count. A sad time, indeed. Your brother was never ill in his life, and now----"
Bernhard pressed the good doctor's hand, and, leaving him, entered Thea's room. In the first moment of reunion he forgot all his doubts. He clasped his pale, distressed Thea in his arms. At sight of her he felt something like remorse for having left her alone so long.
"This is a sad meeting, dear heart," he said with emotion, as he laid her head upon his breast. Thea shook as with a fever-fit, her lips quivered, but she could not speak.
Bernhard looked in her face in alarm. "My poor, poor Thea!" he whispered.
She extricated herself from his clasp, and withdrew her hand from his. "It will pass," she said, turning from him to draw a shawl over her shoulders. "Never mind me. Have you seen him,--I mean Lothar?"
"Yes; he looks perfectly unchanged. I shall have him brought here to-day."
Again Thea shuddered, and for a moment her look was fixed and wild. Bernhard tried again to draw her to him, but she pushed him away. "Leave me! leave me!" she cried. "Oh, my God!" And she burst into a passionate fit of sobbing.