"I should be glad to do it," said Adelaide, timidly.
Another silent bow from him and then he went out with great strides. That too!
He ran hastily down the steps into the garden. He took the letter out of his pocket once more which he had found lying on his writing-table that morning, and read it through. The writing was not as dainty as usual--the letters were hard and firm and large and yet unsteady, as if written, in great excitement.
The blood rushed in a hot wave to his heart. "It will come right." He put away the letter and took another from his pocketbook which had been brought half an hour before by an express messenger.
"I have just come from Wolff, with whom I intended to make an arrangement of this fatal affair. The scoundrel, unfortunately, was taken ill of typhus fever yesterday, and nothing is to be done with him at present. I can only regret that you should have consulted this man of all others, and I do not understand why you have not satisfied him. As soon as the gentleman is au fait again I shall take the liberty, in the interest of my family and especially of my niece, to settle the matter quietly, and beg you not to make the matter worse by any imprudence on your part. You must have some consideration for the family.
"May an old man give you a little advice? I am a very tolerant judge in this matter, but a woman thinks differently about it. Acknowledge the truth openly to your insulted little wife--with a person of her character it is the only way to gain her pardon. I will gladly do all in my power to set this foolish affair before her in the mildest light--"
"Consideration!" he murmured, "consideration for the family!"
Then he laughed aloud and went on more quickly into the deepening twilight. What should he do in the house, in the empty rooms, at the inhospitable table with his heart full of bitterness? Childish, foolish obstinacy it was in her--and no trust in him! How had he deserved that she should give him up at once without even hearing him? Well, she would get over it, she would come again, but--the spell was broken, the bloom, the freshness was gone.
He must have his rights without regard to the Baumhagen family, or to her on whom he would not have permitted the winds of heaven to blow too roughly. She could not have hurt him more, than by giving more credence to that scoundrel than to him--she who usually was so calm--calm?
He could see her eyes before him now, those eyes in which strong passion glowed. He had seen them blaze with anger more than once, he had heard her agitating sobs, her voice husky with emotion as she spoke of her father. He saw her again as she had been the evening before their marriage when she pressed his hands passionately to her lips, a mute eloquent gesture, a thanksgiving for the refuge of his breast. And now? It had already burned out this passionate love, had failed before the first trial.