The baron snatched the packet. Yes; they were the very same parchments he had taken out of the casket with so heavy a heart, and a bundle of bank-notes besides. A weight fell from him. The parchments were safe, the deficit made up. Ehrenthal was courteously dismissed. That very day the baron bought a turquoise ornament for his wife, which she had long silently wished for, and sunshine prevailed in the family circle.
But a dark shadow from the recent past had yet to fall athwart it. The baron, reading the paper one day in his wife's room, observed an advertisement concerning a bankrupt dealer in wood, who had made his escape after swindling his creditors. He laid down the paper, and the drops stood on his brow. "If it should be the same man!"
Ehrenthal had given no name. Had he, a man of honor, been the means of defrauding just claims; had he taken part in a swindling transaction, ay, and gained by it too! The thought was too fearful. He hurried to his desk that he might pack up and send off the accursed profits—whither he knew not, but any where, away. He saw with horror that only a small portion of them remained. In extreme agitation, he rang the bell, and sent for Ehrenthal.
As chance would have it, Ehrenthal was gone on a journey. Meanwhile arose those soothing inward voices which know so well how to place things doubtful in a favorable light. "How foolish this anxiety! There were hundreds of dealers in wood in that part of the country; and was it likely that this very man should be Ehrenthal's client? Or, even if he were, in a business point of view, how could they help the use he might make of their money? Nothing could be fairer than the transaction itself." Thus the voices within; and oh! how attentively the baron listened.
But still, when Ehrenthal at length appeared, the baron met him with an expression that positively appalled him. "What was the name of the man from whom you bought the wood?" cried he.
Ehrenthal had read the newspaper too, and the truth now flashed upon him. He gave a name at once.
"And the place where the wood lay?"
Ehrenthal named that too.
"Are you telling me the truth?" asked the baron, drawing a third deep breath.
Ehrenthal saw that he had a sick conscience to deal with, and treated the case with the utmost gentleness. "What is the baron uneasy about?" said he, shaking his head; "I believe that the man with whom I dealt has made a good profit out of the affair. Nothing could be more fair than the whole transaction. But, even had it not been so, why, my good sir, should you be troubled? There was no reason why I should not tell you the names, both of the man and place, before; but I did not do so, because the bargain was mine, not yours. I became your debtor, and I have repaid you with a bonus—a large one, it is true; but I have dealt with you for years, and why should I keep back from you the share of profit which I should have had to give any one else?"