“How could this have happened?” he murmured. “Have I watched over you so badly?”
“They said they—wanted to—marry us!” Kate gasped out.
“When the year of mourning was over, the wedding was to be,” added Greta.
“And if they said that, they shall keep their word,” he said, endeavoring to console himself. “Do not kneel to me, children, kneel down before God—you need it. This portrait henceforth shall stand on your little table every night. Will you then still have courage to pursue the path of shame? Good-night.”
They rushed after him and entreated him to stay with them, “they were so frightened!” but he disengaged himself gently from them and went up to his garret, where he sat and brooded in the dark. He was so deeply ashamed that he thought he should never more be able to bear the light of day.
The next morning he sent for the foreman and paid him off.
The good man looked up into his face quite aghast. “But now, Mr. Meyerhofer, when all is going on so well?” he said.
“Yes, going on so well,” he murmured, thoughtfully. “Shame added to misfortune!—the man is right.”
“Something has upset me,” he then said, “which has given me a disgust for work. Let us leave it for the moment, and when the time comes I will send for you again.”
His father bitterly complained over the disturbance in the night. “What were you storming about in the garden?” he asked. “I heard your voice!”