A low murmur of horror ran through the assembly, as Black Claus related this fearful story. All eyes were turned upon the handmaiden of Satan. For a moment she had raised her head, horror-struck at this interpretation of the interview she had in Gottlob’s chamber with the stranger—for a moment she seemed to have a desire to speak. But then, clasping her hands before her face, she murmured—“O God! it cannot be! But this is terrible!”
Gottlob, who, during the whole accusation, had listened with much impatience, could now no longer restrain his generous feelings. He started forward with the words—“No, no, it is impossible! Speak, Magdalena—say how false is this man’s tale.”
“God knows that it is false!” said Magdalena.
“I knew it could not be. There could be no one with thee in my chamber, and he lies.”
“No,” replied Magdalena sadly, “thus far is true:—There was a stranger by me in your chamber.”
“But who then?—speak, Magdalena,” urged Gottlob. “Clear yourself of the foul stigma of his tale.”
“I may not say!” replied the unhappy woman. “But God will prove my innocence in His own right time.”
“Why hesitate,” again cried the eager young man, “when with a word you could disprove him?”
“I have already said it cannot be,” said the accused woman, sinking her head upon her breast.
Gottlob himself drew back with a shudder; for a moment he knew not what to think; the strange answers of Magdalena perplexed and troubled him. He began himself to doubt of the woman, who, in return for his benevolence, had showed him the attachment of a mother. He pulled his cloak over his face with both his hands, and stood for a time overwhelmed.