“Woe to you!” cried her mother. “Woe to the seducer who has persuaded our child to sin and crime, and—”
“Hush mother! I will not permit you to slander him whom I love, and ever shall, so long—”
“Until you forget him, and love me, Marie,” said Ebenstreit. Approaching her, he seized her hand, and pressed a kiss upon it.
She drew it away with disgust, and turned slowly to the door, tossing back her head proudly. “Where are you going?” demanded her mother.
With her hand upon the knob, she replied, turning her pale, wan face to her mother, “To my own room, which I suppose is permitted to me, as there is nothing more to be said.”
Her mother would reply, and retain her, but her son-in-law held her gently back. “Let her go,” said he; “she needs rest for composure and to accustom herself to the thought that her fate is unavoidable.”
“But what if she should resort to desperate means in her mad infatuation and foolish passion? Some one must watch her continually, for she may try to elope.”
“You are right, dearest mother, some one must be with her, in whom she will confide. Would it not be possible to win old Trude?”
“No, nothing would gain her; she is a silly fool, who thinks only Marie is of consequence.”
Ebenstreit shrugged his shoulders. “That means that she would sell herself at a high price. I beg that you will send for her.”