"I am weary of the Court. I am unhappy here. Let me go."
Alice did not tell her of the Court gossip she had overheard, and that grief and pain drove her to the convent.
"Magda will not leave me, Alice; why will you? Stay with me. You knew my dear mamma; you are nearly of my own age; I should miss you sadly."
"No, I have determined to take the veil; it is my calling. Let me go:"
Eva sighed, and replied, rising and laying her hand on Alice's shoulder, at the same time glancing nervously at the portrait of Henry the Lion, "I am not happy either, dear Alice. Oh! I wish I had never left my uncle's castle, and the protection of my brothers. Why was I doomed to lose my mother? You seem to me more like a friend than a servant, Alice; how can I do without you, my foster-sister?"
Again Eva paused and listened. Suddenly the portrait of Henry the Lion advanced into the room, and Duke Henry stood in the opening it had left in the wall. Eva flushed, turned pale, and stood in confusion, while Alice looked on in bewildered amazement. But Henry said carelessly, "The Duchess is coming, Fräulein von Trotta; I am only a minute in advance."
Alice saluted and retired, muttering to herself, "It is true, then, and worse than I thought. A secret door. And what does that portrait mean? I wonder if mother knows all this?"
The following day Alice departed for the convent.
The castle clock was ringing ten when two muffled figures stole through a postern gate of the garden wall behind it into the park, and, concealed by the darkness, hastened through by-paths to the lime-tree arbour. Here they waited some time, when at last steps and voices were heard approaching through the lime-tree avenue.
Eva was saying, "Do not ask me to stay at Court, Henry. I cannot, I must go at once. The courtiers are talking; Alice insists on leaving me; I know it is out of sorrow she condemns me who am so far innocent. Think of my youth—I am only sixteen. My mother is dead, my father absent. Oh, I cannot deceive the Duchess. She has been so kind to me, and she is so good. I shall return your presents, which I should never have accepted, and go back to my uncle's little castle."