CHAPTER II.
THE LETTER.
One day, about four weeks after the occurrences related in our last chapter, Madame von Herbart was seated in a neat little cabinet, where she usually passed her morning hours, employed in the instruction of her daughter. Through the open door, which offered a pleasant view into a beautiful garden, whose trees and parterres were already tinged with the brilliant hues of autumn, a whole flood of perfumes streamed into the pretty apartment. The widow sat by her writing-table opposite the door, with Ella by her side attentively listening to her mother's words, while she related the history of the noble and high-hearted, but unfortunate Grand-master, Henry von Plauen.
She graphically detailed to her daughter the shameful web of hatred, envy, and treachery which caused the downfall of this truly great man. With glowing words she painted the blackness of the ingratitude with which he was rewarded by the very brethren of the order which he had himself saved from ruin by his own exertions, and how they robbed him of all his dignities and honors, keeping a close watch upon him until death freed him from their persecution.
"O my child!" she continued, "how great is the sin of ingratitude! What depravity does it not evince, to distress and injure those who have only done us good! Such a deed is never suffered to pass unpunished by a righteous Heaven, and the German order stands as a warning example in history; for the overthrow of the high-hearted Plauen was the first step in its own downfall."
"May I come in?" asked a gentle but manly voice, at this moment interrupting the narrative of Madame von Herbart.
Ella sprang up from her seat, exclaiming, "It is Theodore!" and hastened to the door.