She turned it over, looked at it carelessly, then suddenly every trace of color left her face. She raised her eyes with a scared expression in them, then looked down again--yes, there it was!
"----Besides the above-mentioned property Miss Gertrude Baumhagen owns a villa near Bergedorf. A massive building, splendidly furnished, with stables, gardener's house and a garden-lot of ten acres, partly wood, enclosed by a massive wall.
"The property is recorded in the name of the young lady, being valued at twenty-four thousand dollars.
"For any further details I am quite at your service,
"Very respectfully yours,
"C. Wolff, Agent.
D. 21 Dec. 1882."
Gertrude tried to read it again, but her hand trembled so violently that the letters danced before her eyes. She had seen it, however, distinctly enough; it would not change read it as often as she might. With pitiless certainty the conviction forced itself upon her: it is the truth, the horrible truth! and every word of his had been a lie.
She had been bought and sold like a piece of merchandise--she, she had been caught in such a snare!
She had taken that for love which had been only the commonest mercenary speculation.