"She was silent for awhile, and her breast heaved with suppressed sobs. 'No,' she said, 'I had never thought that he would stoop for a poison-flower——'
"An infinite bitterness, a deep woe, lay in these few words, and as if she had said too much, she whispered: 'He is my only brother!' And then, no longer able to control her emotion, she cried, throwing her hands over her face: 'And I cannot hold him back, I cannot keep him from a disappointment; I have no right to!' It sounded like a wild cry of pain. And a hot stream of tears gushed forth between her fingers.
"I stepped up to her to embrace her consolingly, but she hastily averted it. 'Let me alone; I did not mean to cry, I thought I was stronger.' And drawing out her handkerchief, she turned into the nearest shady path.
CHAPTER XIII.
"A few hours later a carriage drove into the court. I recognized Stürmer's livery, and from my chamber window saw Brockelmann help out the old actress, hardly with the haste of anticipation.
"'There, we really ought to have just such a sort of mother-in-law in the house!' I whispered, and smiled bitterly; but tear after tear fell on my lilac cap-strings. Like misfortune itself, the old woman came up the steps. Ah! Klaus, Klaus, whither have you gone astray?' Our whole family seemed to me unspeakably fallen in this moment, and I could do nothing in the unfortunate affair, but only try to raise Susanna to us, to keep her away from everything which might remind her of the folly, of the frivolity of the sphere from which she sprang; again and again to point out to her what a rich, fair lot had fallen to her; to make her comprehend that the wife of a Hegewitz must also be a pattern of dignity and noble womanhood. I should have much preferred to bundle Isabella Pfannenschmidt into the carriage again, to send her to some place miles away, and against my will I was going out of my door, when I heard her slow, shuffling step in the hall.
"'Please, ma'm'selle, come into my room a minute before you go to Susanna,' I said to her. Frankly confessed, I do not know myself why I did it; but I felt instinctively that I must speak with her first, before she learned the latest turn in Susanna's fate from her own lips.
"The small person came slowly over the threshold, looking at me distrustfully. She seemed to me infinitely wretched in her rumpled bonnet and threadbare silk cloak, her face yellower than ever, and sunken, and she was somewhat bent, as if still suffering pain. She sat down in the nearest chair, and looked at me with her sharp, sullen eyes. I stood before her and tried to speak, yet no word passed my lips. All the craft, all the low sentiments which flashed out of those small eyes toward me reminded me anew of the sort of atmosphere in which Susanna had grown up. I had been walking up and down the room with these thoughts; now I took a seat opposite the old woman, who had silently followed me with her eyes. I wanted to tell her that a great, great happiness had befallen Susanna, and found no words for it. It seemed as if I were choked.
"'I would like to inform you,' I began, hesitatingly, but I got no farther, for Anna Maria came in. 'Dear aunt,' said she, 'I have to speak with Isabella Pfannenschmidt a moment.' I drew a breath of relief, and went into the adjoining room.