“He!” Marie started back with horror. “He, so early in the morning! this is no accident, Trude. What does it mean? Hush! the servant is coming!”
“I will go down,” whispered Trude; “perhaps I can hear something.”
Trude hurried away as her young lady glided back into her room, and never glanced at the servant who sprang past her upon the stairs.
“He is a hypocrite and a spy; he has been hired to watch and observe my child, and he will betray her if he discovers any thing.”
The servant announced, with respectful, humble mien, that Herr Ebenstreit had arrived, and Frau von Werrig desired her daughter to descend to the parlor.
“Very well—say that I will come directly.”
The servant remained rubbing his hands in an undecided, embarrassed manner.
“Why do you not go down?” asked Marie. “Have you any thing further to tell me?”
“I would say,” said he, spying about the room, as if he were afraid some one were listening, “that if a poor, simple man like myself could be useful to you, and you could confide in me your commissions, I should be too happy to prove to you that Carl Leberecht is an honest fellow, and has a heart, and it hurts his feelings to see the miss suffer so much.”
“I thank you,” said Marie, gently. “I am glad to feel that you have sympathy for me.”