"Stand up, Gertrude," he said, gently; and after a pause he added, "The Bible says we shall forgive."
"Yes, with all my heart," she murmured. "And if you see him tell him so. Ah, if he had come and had said--'Forgive me'--but so--"
An idea came into Uncle Henry's head.
"Then would you give in, child?" he inquired.
"Yes," she stammered, "hard as it would be."
The old egotist knew then what he had to do. He led the weeping Gertrude to her little sofa, asked Johanna for a glass of wine and then drove to Niendorf. As he went he could see always before him the beautiful tear-stained face, and could hear her sad voice. As he ran up the steps to the garden-hall rather hastily he saw through the glass door the little brunette Adelaide sitting at the table with the judge, who was just uncorking a wine-bottle. Both were so deeply engaged in gazing at each other and blushing and gazing again that they were not conscious of the presence of the old spy outside.
"Really, this is a pretty time to be carousing in this house," thought Uncle Baumhagen. As he entered he brought the couple back to the bald present with a gruff "Good morning," and the judge began at once a lament over the horrible ill-luck of this Wolff's dying six months too soon.
"What is going on here?" asked Uncle Henry, inhaling the fragrance of the wood-ruff.
"The parting mai-trank for the judge," replied Miss Adelaide.
"Oh, ta, ta! You are going away?"