It was Uncle Henry. He spoke in a tone of the deepest vexation.
"Shall she hear it from strangers?" cried the voice of her weeping mother; "the whole town is ringing with it, and is she to go about as if she were blind and deaf?"
"I am trembling all over," Gertrude now heard Jenny say; "it is outrageous, we are made forever ridiculous. It was only last evening that I said to Mrs. S----, 'You can't imagine what an idyllic Arcadian happiness has its dwelling out there in Niendorf.'"
"Confound your logic! I tell you--" cried the little man angrily. But he stopped suddenly, for there on the threshold stood Gertrude Linden.
"Are you talking of us?" she asked, her terrified eyes wandering over the group and resting at length on her mother, who at sight of her had sunk back weeping in her chair.
"Yes, child."
The old man hastened towards her and tried to draw her away.
"It's a thoughtless whim of your mother to send for you here; nothing at all has happened; really, it is only some stupid gossip, a misunderstanding perfectly absurd. Come across to the other room and I will explain it all."
"No, no, uncle, I must know it, must know it all."
She withdrew her hand from his and went up to her mother.