"Thank God!" burst from the depths of Johannes' heart. As he dropped Ernestine's hands, he fairly staggered with exhaustion.
Again a few moments passed in gloomy silence.
"Ernestine," he then said, "you have in this last hour punished an innocent man for all the sins of his sex. Let it suffice you--indeed you are avenged."
Ernestine did not speak.
Johannes continued. "I will intrude no longer. May I come with Heim to-morrow?"
"You shall learn my decision to-morrow."
"Your hand upon it. No? Then farewell!"
Ernestine was alone. She stood motionless for awhile, never thinking of Johannes, nor of her uncle, who, strangely enough, did not appear, but with one sentence ringing in her ears,--"Your pulse is that of a victim to disease of the heart." Those words had stung like a scorpion. There was no doubt, then, that Johannes considered her past all hope of recovering,--he had plainly intimated as much, although he had refrained from bluntly telling her so. But was Dr. Möllner capable of forming a correct judgment in her case? Yes, certainly, both as physiologist and physician, he was thoroughly able to form a just diagnosis. She did not understand how she could so long have ignored the signs in herself of physical decline. He was right,--her uncle was her murderer. She shuddered at the thought. How near death seemed to her now! She thought, and thought called to mind every peculiar sensation that she had lately been conscious of, weighed the evidence, and drew conclusions.
It was remarkable how everything betokened trouble with her heart. Johannes wished to consult Heim. He would not have done that, had he not thought her dangerously ill. What could he or Heim tell her that she did not know herself? Had he any means of obtaining knowledge that were not hers also? Had she not a pathological library, filled with all that a physician needed,--the same that she had destined for Walter, but had not yet sent to him? She would consult it and know the truth that very day.
Night had fallen--the rain was dripping outside--the room lay in dreary shadow. She rang for lights. Frau Willmers brought a study-lamp with a green shade, and left her alone again.