"If the affair is settled as Mr. Sneider advises, it is the best you can do. By the way, how does Frank take it? Has he confessed it? To be sure, what else could he do? Well, let me hear to-morrow then, at latest. By the way, child, it has just occurred to me--that day that Linden called on us the first time, that fellow, that Wolff, came with him across the square to our house. I was sitting in the bay-window and I was surprised to see how confidentially Wolff clapped him on the shoulder."
Gertrude stood motionless. Ah, she had seen the same thing; she recalled it so clearly at this moment.
"Yes, yes," she stammered.
"The lawyer says he does a great deal of that sort of business. But now good-night, my pet--will you send in word or shall we send some one out in the morning?"
"I will send word," replied Gertrude.
She did not go out with her sister, she stood still in her place, her head gunk on her breast, her arms hanging nerveless by her side. This conversation with Jenny had opened an abyss before her eyes; she no longer knew what she should do, only one thing was clear, she could not stay with him; she could not endure a life of indifference by his side, and--any other life would never again be possible to them. "Never!" she said aloud with decision, "Never!"
She heard his steps now in the next room; then the steps went away again and presently she heard them on the gravel-walk in the garden till they finally died away. She was so tired and it was so cold, and she could not realize that there had ever been a time when it had been different,--when she had been happy--she seemed to herself so degraded.
She had that fatal letter still in her hand, where it burnt like glowing coals. She knew an old maid, the daughter of a poor official, who was soured and embittered. For thirteen years she had been engaged to a poor referendary, and finally they had recognized the fact that they never would be rich enough to marry. She had remained lonely and pitied by all who knew her history.
Ah, if she could only have exchanged with her, who had been loved for her own sake! And even if she could forgive him for not having loved her, the lie, the hypocrisy she could never forgive--never, never. Her faith in him was gone.
Half unconsciously she had wandered out into the corridor, and felt a little refreshed by the cooler air. She ran quickly down the steps into the garden. From the kitchen came the sounds of talking and laughing; the gardener was talking nonsense to the maids--the mistress' eye was wanting.