“Think well over it first, Max,” the woman pleaded, in great anxiety.
“What is the good of hesitating?” he replied, violently. “We must not be a burden to this Mr. Douglas, and we cannot lay claim to anything better with our miserable two thousand thalers; therefore, let us seize upon it promptly.” And without taking time to say good-bye to the sick woman, he strode away.
A few minutes later she heard his dog-cart driving away through the gate.
In the afternoon of the same day a strange visitor was announced. A beautiful, distinguished lady was said to have driven into the yard in a smart carriage, who wished to pay a visit to the mistress in her sick-room.
“Who was it?” She had refused to give her name.
“How strange!” thought Frau Elsbeth; but as in her grief she was beginning to believe in special providences, she did not say no.
The door opened. A slender, delicate figure, with gentle, refined features, approached the bed of the sick woman with gliding steps. Without speaking a word she seized her hand and said, in a soft, slightly veiled voice:
“I have concealed my name, dear Mrs. Meyerhofer, for I feared you would refuse to see me if I had given it beforehand. And I should like best even now to remain unknown. Unfortunately, I fear that you will not look at me with kindness any longer when you know who I am.”
“I hate no one in the world,” replied Frau Elsbeth, “least of all a name.”
“I am called Helene Douglas,” said the lady, gently, and she pressed the invalid’s hand closer.