"Gertrude!" called a shrill voice from the next room.
She started.
"Mamma!" she whispered. "Come!" They went together. Mrs. Baumhagen was standing beside her writing-table. Sophie had just brought the lamp, the light of which shone full on the mother's round flushed face, on which rested an unusually decided expression.
"I am glad you are here, Linden," she said to the young man, turning down the leaf of the writing-table and taking her seat before it.
"How much time do you require to put your house in order so that Gertrude could live in it?"
"Not long," he replied. "Some rooms need new carpets, and trifles of that sort--that is all."
"Very well--I shall be satisfied," she replied, coldly. "Then to-morrow you will have the goodness to send your papers in to the clergyman and have the banns published. In three weeks I shall leave for the South with my eldest daughter, and before I go I wish to have this--this affair arranged."
Linden bowed.
"I thank you, madam."
Gertrude stood silent, white to the lips, but she did not look at him. He knew she was suffering tortures for his sake.