Gertrude was already by her side. "Is that true?" escaped from her trembling lips.
The old lady nodded. "Perfectly true," she declared. "Ask Dora. She searched for the letter with me, and thereby got a great knock on the head when she was trying to move the wardrobe."
But Gertrude declined this. She stood for awhile in silence, her head bent down, her color changing rapidly from red to white, then she moved towards the door and in another moment she had disappeared.
Lightly she mounted the stairs, and the old worn boards seemed to understand why the little feet stepped so carefully and did not as usual, crack and snap.
It was still as death in the whole house; the corridor was still dusky and the old pictures on the wall looked sleepily down on the young wife. The tall clock kept on its solemn tick-tack, tick-tack. It sounded so strangely in Gertrude's ears, as she stood hesitating before the brown door and grasped the knob.
Tick-tack, tick-tack! How the time flies! One should not hesitate a moment when one has a fault to repair--every minute is so much taken from him--quick, quick!
Softly she opened the door and slipped in. She had drawn her dress close about her, so the train should not rustle. Two large eyes gazed anxiously out of the pale face round the room, which was glowing in the morning sunshine. Now her heart seemed to stop beating for a moment, now it throbbed wildly: there in the large chair--he had not gone to bed, but sleep had overtaken him. There he sat, his wounded arm rested on the arm of the chair, the other supported his head. He wore still the soiled, singed coat he had on the day before, and ah, he looked so pale, so changed!
The dog, which lay at his feet, lifted up his head and wagged his tail. Then she went towards him. "Make way for me," she murmured, "I must take that place!"
And she knelt down before her husband, and taking the shrinking injured hand put it to her lips.
"Gertrude, what are you doing?"