"And was it then so far off? On a dull, sultry August night, I was still sitting in my easy-chair by the window, and could see distant flashes of lightning over the barns; the air was uncomfortable and stifling, or was it only the imagination of my old, restlessly beating heart, and my thoughts, which were below with Susanna, anxious and prayerful?
"Ah, what does not pass through one's soul in such an hour—trembling joy and happy fear, and each minute seems to stretch out endlessly. I listened to the walking down-stairs, to the sound of the opening and shutting of doors; would some one never come up with the glad news?
"And my thoughts wandered back to the night when Anna Maria was born, when I sat up here in the same fear and anxiety. Klaus had gone to sleep in the arm-chair over there. I had not disturbed him, had let him sleep, till his father came to call him to his mother's death-bed. The boy's pale, frightened face stood before me so plainly this evening, as he knelt before the cradle of his little sister.
"Below, in the court-yard, it was still as death; only old Mandelt, the watchman, was going slowly along, shaking his rattler; and above the slumbering world glittered the brilliant stars of the August sky as through a light mist.
"Then I started up; heavy steps were approaching my door, and now Brockelmann called into my room: 'A boy, Fräulein Rosamond! Come down-stairs—such a dear, splendid boy!'
"Never did I hurry down those stairs so quickly as on that night, nor did Klaus ever take me in his arms so impetuously, so full of thankful jubilation, as then, when he came toward me to lead me to the cradle of his child. The strong man was quite overcome, and the first words that he whispered to me were again: 'How Anna Maria will rejoice!'
"If ever a child was welcomed with joy it was this one. His presence worked like a deliverance upon us all; even Brockelmann and Isa spoke pleasantly to each other to-day. Isa's anxiety about her darling had reached the highest pitch, and she had left her place in the room of the young mother to the quiet old woman; and Brockelmann—well, she would not have been the honest old soul that she was not to rejoice with her master over his son. Whatever grudge against Susanna may have still lingered in her heart, this day wiped out; with a truly motherly tenderness she presided at the sick-bed. And did it fare better with me? I, too, old creature that I was, knelt down between the bed and the cradle, and kissed the little pale face again and again; in this hour everything with which she had once troubled us was forgotten.
"And Klaus sat at his writing-desk and wrote to Anna Maria. 'Do you think she will come?' he asked as he came in again. He had sent a special messenger to E—— with the letter to his sister. 'Will she come?'
"'Surely, Klaus!' I replied.
"The messenger was gone three days; then he returned with a letter from Anna Maria. Heartfelt words it contained, here and there half blotted out by tears. She would come soon, she wrote, come soon—in a week or two, perhaps—but would it be right to Susanna?