"Oh, is that all?" Gretchen ventured to remonstrate. "Then pray let me go to her. Nothing can harm me when I am doing my duty. Better to die than live on without being permitted to do as I know I ought. Oh, dear Herr Hilsborn, you know what I mean, speak for me!"
"Do not refuse her, Johannes. She will not be content until she is with Ernestine. I make a fearful sacrifice in exposing her to this danger, when I would guard her like the apple of my eye, but I know how she is longing for Ernestine."
"Then, Fräulein Gleissert, you shall share with my mother the care of the invalid."
"Thank you all a thousand times! May I go now?"
"Take her to Ernestine's room, mother dear, while I speak with Hilsborn," said Johannes.
"Come, then, my child." The Staatsräthin opened the door of the darkened apartment, and the girl entered.
Gretchen stood as if rooted to the spot. There lay the dreaded, mute accuser of her father, the unfortunate victim of his crimes, pale and beautiful as an ideal embodiment of death,--a glorious lily, prostrated, perhaps never again to stand erect, by the same hand that a few days before had been laid in blessing upon Gretchen's head. The poor child, crushed by the sight, sank upon her knees, and, extending her arms, cried in a suppressed voice of agony, "Forgive, forgive!"
Ernestine did not reply, for she did not hear. Reason was dethroned behind that pale, broad brow, and confused dreams were running riot there in the wildest anarchy.
Only when Gretchen perceived that Ernestine was wholly unconscious, did she dare to approach close to her. Gazing at her with admiring pity, she murmured to herself, "No, my father did not understand, or he maligned you. You are not bad, you cannot be bad!" And, kneeling, she breathed a gentle kiss upon the small hand.
Did the invalid feel that something loving was near? She put out her hand towards the kneeling girl, and, detaining her by the dress, leaned her head upon her shoulder.