"Dear Fräulein Ernestine," said Willmers, "you are still ill, and that is the cause of these gloomy thoughts. If you would only talk with Professor Möllner, he would know better how to answer you than such a simple old woman as I."
"When is Dr. Möllner coming again?"
"He is here with his mother. They came here to stay, that they might take care of you, and the Frau Staatsräthin has done all that she could to help her son. Oh, how anxious and unhappy they have been about you! The Herr Professor would not stir from your bedside, and he looks quite ill with constant watching."
Ernestine cast down her eyes with emotion.
"May I not ask him to come in now?" asked Willmers.
"Pray do so."
Willmers did not have to go far to call him. He was already at the door.
"Ernestine, how are you?" he said, doing his best to appear composed.
"Well, dear friend." And she smiled, and held out her hand to him. "What have you not done for me! How can a dying woman thank you for such self-sacrifice?"
"Ernestine," cried Johannes, pressing her hand to his lips, "you are in error. I myself led you into it, and severely has God punished me for my imprudence. Everything that I told you of your physical condition was founded upon mistaken suppositions. What I thought a symptom of chronic disease was nothing but the approach of an acute attack of illness. Two physicians, Heim and Moritz Kern, pronounce your heart sound, and you are now out of danger. Oh, Ernestine, you cannot dream what my sufferings have been! I saw you writhing in mortal agony. All your fancies betrayed the terror into which I had plunged you. I would have rescued you from it, but you could not hear nor understand me. I offered you the truth that would save you from destruction, and you could not open your lips to receive it. It was too much, too much!"