"Go!" cried Lenore, in utmost excitement. "All is crumbling around us; there is no help to be looked for; even you can not save us; go, and free your life from that of our sinking family."
When Anton joined the baroness, he found her lying on the sofa. "Sit down beside me, Mr. Wohlfart," whispered she. "The hour is come in which I must impart what, to spare myself, I have reserved for the hour when we speak most openly to each other—the last hour spent together. The baron's illness has so affected him that he no longer appreciates your faithful help—nay, your presence aggravates his unhappy state. He has so hurt your feelings that reconciliation is become impossible. Even could you forget, we should consider the sacrifice you would be making far too great."
"I purpose leaving the property on an early day," replied Anton.
"I can not," continued the baroness, "atone for my husband's offenses toward you, but I wish to give you an opportunity of revenging yourself in a manner worthy of you. The baron has attacked your honor; the revenge that I, his wife, offer you, is to assist him to retrieve his own."
Hitherto the baroness had spoken fluently, as was her wont in society; now she stopped, and seemed to lack words.
"Years ago," she said, "he pledged his word of honor, and—and broke it in a moment of desperation. The proof of this is probably in the hands of some low man, who will use this knowledge to ruin him. That I should communicate this to you at a time like this will show you the light in which I regard your connection with our house. If it be possible to restore his peace of mind, you, I know, will do it." She drew a letter from under the pillow, and placed it in Anton's hand.
Anton took it to the window, and saw with surprise that it was in Ehrenthal's handwriting. He had to read it twice before he could master its contents. In a lucid interval the imbecile had happened to recall his former dealings with the nobleman, and wrote to remind him of the stolen notes of hand, to demand his money, and to threaten the baron. The letter was full, besides, of laments over his own weakness, and the wickedness of others; and what its confusion left unexplained was cleared up by the copy of a note of hand—probably from the draught of one agreed upon by the baron and Ehrenthal, for the letter mentioned the existence of the original, and threatened to use it against the baron.
Folding up the letter, Anton said, "The threats which Ehrenthal connects with the copy inclosed need not disturb you, baroness, for the note of hand seems to have no signature, and the sum which it represents is a small one."
"And do you believe that it is a true statement?" asked the baroness.
"I do," was the reply. "This letter explains to me much that hitherto I never could understand."