The old Countess drew a deep breath. Everything was turning out more favourably for Erika than she had dared to hope. The adventure, which would of course be discussed freely by all the hotel servants, would explain Erika's long absence and strange return.
"Is the Countess Erika ill?" asked the faithful Marianne, with an anxious glance at the young girl, whose cheeks were flushed with fever.
"Only suffering from the effects of agitation," said Countess Lenzdorff, who had meanwhile brought the money and given it to the maid.
"No wonder! Poor Countess Erika!" the servant murmured as she withdrew.
Weary and wretched, Erika again closed her eyes. When she opened them she saw her grandmother at the writing-table, her head resting on her hand, and a blank sheet of paper before her.
"To whom are you writing, grandmother?"
"I want to write to Goswyn," the old Countess replied, in a low tone. "I must answer his letter; and--I am not sure----" She hesitated.
Upon Erika's mind flashed the remembrance of the letter she had written the previous day to Goswyn. She had forgotten it.
"Of course I must tell him not to come," said her grandmother.
Erika sighed. Must she give her grandmother that pain too? At last she managed to say, in a voice that was scarce audible, "He will not come: he----"