"Cursed liar!" cried the young man, who had in vain tried to hold his hands before the mouth of the angry woman, and thus arrest the stormy flow of her injurious words.
She succeeded, however, in holding him at arm's length from her person, while she continued to shriek: "So, so; I am a liar, am I? Now that you have openly defied me, I will tell the whole story. Minister Arnoldi, my own blessed mother, may God forgive her! imposed this beggar upon you as your child! He is, however, her own son! Your boy Walter she exposed at night to be taken care of as a foundling! I can bring certain proof of all I assert!—Set the dogs upon me, indeed! My own brother, too!"
These words fell like a stroke of thunder upon all who were present. The astonished guests gathered together in the background; Madame Arnoldi clasped her daughter anxiously in her arms, as if she feared some one would tear her away from her; and the Minister exclaimed, in a tone stifled by emotion: "Proofs! proofs! I must have full and certain proofs of this horrible story."
My dear, dearest sister! I know your tender heart is beating fast; that your eyes are too full of tears to see clearly, and that, trembling with fear and excitement, you are striving to read on! I, too, suffered intensely. I grasped my Walter's hand as if I was determined never to give him up. Alas! My throbbing heart rapidly divined the truth, but it was no time for me to speak, for the angry woman rapidly proceeded in her strange narration.
"My mother, seduced by your wealth, determined that her darling little Peter should be your heir. In order to carry out this scheme, she commanded me one day, shortly after the death of my father, to get little Walter ready, for that she intended to take him to another town at a considerable distance, and place him with her aunt as her own Peter, while she intended to make the real Peter pass as your Walter. She concluded, however, afterwards to alter her plan. She made me write a letter, recommending the child to the compassion of all men. As I saw her sew this paper tight upon the dress of the little boy, I thought it more than probable that she would not take him as far as her aunt's. I pitied the beautiful child sorely, for I could not help loving him; but I was dreadfully afraid of my mother, and I did not dare to refuse to do as she told me. I fastened securely and secretly around Walter the locket which you had hung on his neck when you parted from him; and when my mother asked for it, I told her that Peter had had it to play with, and had thrown it into the well. Every word I have spoken is true. I can tell you where your own son is,—for I soon found out what my mother had done with him, and have always, without exciting any suspicion, kept myself fully informed about the fate of your forsaken boy. The well-known clock-maker Burg, now residing in D——, has adopted him as his own son!"
You must have already divined, my poor Christina, that this announcement was coming: imagine what an impression these words must have made on all the by-standers! "Burg! Walter Burg!" was echoed and reechoed from every quarter of the room.
"Walter Burg is here!" cried Madame Arnoldi, suddenly, as she seized the cold hand of our almost benumbed darling. "Father, here,—here is indeed your son!"
"If he is," cried the woman, "he must produce the locket."
Walter trembled from head to foot as he produced that dear possession, which you know he has worn upon his heart ever since he left Geremberg.
Arnoldi recognized it instantly!