Only a Girl: or, A Physician for the Soul.

by Wilhelmine von Hillern

"On the evening of your flight, a letter was received from a former maid of Fräulein Hartwich's, who travelled in Italy with you, demanding immediate payment of her yearly stipend, for which she had written several times in vain. She reminds you, Herr Gleissert, of what she has done for you,--how she worked sometimes all night long, trying to imitate Fräulein von Hartwich's signature, that she might be able to counterfeit her successfully before the notary. In short, the letter proves beyond a doubt that you deceived the notary by substituting the person as well as the signature of the maid for your ward's, that the deed might be complete by which the Orphans' Court was induced to resign the estate in its charge."

Leuthold stood before the young man pale and mute. Hilsborn saw the terrible agony of his soul.

"I do not tell you this to humiliate you or to increase your pain, but only to warn you," he continued, "that you may not lose any time by a false plan of defence, and perhaps thereby deprive yourself of the sympathy sure to await a man of your culture who makes frank and remorseful confession of his guilt."

Leuthold's lips quivered at these well-meant words. "Have steps been taken to secure the person of the maid?" he inquired, in the tone in which he would have asked, "How long have I to live?"

"Professor Möllner telegraphed immediately to O----, the girl's present place of abode, and just before I left him he received intelligence that she had been placed under arrest. The notary also has been summoned. Be assured that, as your arrest has been conducted with the greatest foresight, no measures will be neglected to insure your conviction. The only course left for you is to endeavour to secure the sympathies of the jury."

"I thank you!" said Leuthold.

Gretchen had been standing leaning against the window-frame, and had understood more than Hilsborn had intended that she should. The waters of the Alster were still rolling below her, the lights were sparkling, and, in the terrible silence that now ensued, the music of the waltzes in the pavilion could be plainly heard. Was it possible that there was no change outside, while she felt as if the world were crumbling in pieces around her?

Again the door opened, and several figures appeared. Everything swam before Gretchen's eyes, her heart beat as though every throb were its last. An official entered, "Excuse me, sir," he said to Hilsborn, "I cannot wait any longer."

Leuthold looked towards the door. Two police-officers were standing outside, and Bertha with her husband. And who were those? Other figures were constantly appearing in the brilliantly lighted hall, inmates of the house, eager to witness the arrest. And was he to be led through all that gaping, staring crowd? He, who, with all his crimes, had always preserved appearances,--was he at last to be as it were held up to public contempt, dragged through the lighted passages and down the staircases by policemen, like a common thief? Of course there would be an eager crowd below, and another upon his arrival at N--. His only road now lay through long rows of curious faces, dragged from examination to examination, from disgrace to disgrace,--he, a man who had always preserved an outward respectability,--until he should end either in a convict's coat or the strait-jacket of a madman! The time for reflection was over. He turned a little, only a very little, aside, and drew a folded paper from his pocket,--it did not take a moment, no one observed the motion. And what else? it was so easy to put his hand to his lips and swallow the powder that the paper contained, far easier than to pass through that brilliant hall, through that murmuring, staring mob, to the courtroom, and thence to a jail! Only an instant,--it was done. It tasted bitter, and he drank a glass of water to destroy the taste upon his tongue. Then he stepped up to Gretchen, who was upon her knees, her face buried in her hands. "Gretchen," he said almost inaudibly, "forgive your unhappy father!"

"Father? Almighty God, I have no father!" burst from the lips of his tortured child.