“I do not understand you, Frederick,” she smilingly replied. “Who could compel you to an abnegation which would cause you grief?”
“Listen to me, Wilhelmine, and understand that I am suffering from circumstances—an oath taken in the pressure of the moment. Try to comprehend me, my dear child.”
Drawing her closer to him, he faithfully related to her the night of the communion of the spirits, and his consequent oath.
“Is that all, my dear?” she replied, smiling, as he finished.
“What do you mean?” he asked, astonished.
“Nothing more than I would know if you have only sworn to renounce Wilhelmine Enke!”
“What could I have done more prejudicial to you?” he cried, not a little irritated.
“Surely you could not injure or grieve me more, and therefore I am not a little surprised that the pious Fathers could so carelessly word their oaths. You have sworn to renounce your affection to and separate from Wilhelmine Enke; so it follows that the Invisibles only demand that you give up my name, not myself, and that is easily changed, and my dear prince will not become a perjurer.”
“I do not quite understand you; but I perceive by the arch expression of your face that you have conceived a lucky escape for your unhappy Frederick William. Explain to me, dearest, your meaning.”
“I must change my name by marrying some one!” she whispered.