Ernestine shook her head almost mournfully. "I know of no loving customs."
The Staatsräthin looked at her with compassion. "Then you hardly know how old you are?"
"Not exactly; but my father died when I was twelve years old,--shortly before his death he reproached me for being so little and weak for twelve years old,--and since then ten summers have passed away."
"Poor child!" said the Staatsräthin. "I begin to understand!"
"I thought you would, mother," said Johannes from the other side of the table.
"Your uncle has deprived you of many of the pleasures of life," continued the Staatsräthin.
"Such pleasures, perhaps. But I must not be ungrateful,--he has given me others no less fair and great!"
"And what were they?"
"He has taught me to think and to study. There can be no greater or purer pleasures than these."
Again the Staatsräthin's brow was overcast.