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

by Wilhelmine von Hillern

And, with a melancholy smile, she leaned back her head and was silent

The days passed on, and the time approached very nearly when Möllner must return to his duties in town. Ernestine grew more silent and thoughtful. No one could understand the change in her mood, for her physical condition improved daily, while she fell into a state of depression such as had not befallen her since she began to recover. At last Heim decreed that she must have fresh air, and one warm noon she drove out for the first time. She had begged that Gretchen alone might accompany her, and the Möllners had, although unwillingly, acceded to her request, Johannes carefully lifting her into the carriage.

"Gretchen," said Ernestine, as they drove along, "Dr. Möllner has twice alluded to the fact that in two or three days he, with his mother, must move back to town, as his lectures at the University will begin again. You heard how they took it for granted that we should accompany them. I made only evasive answers, but now I must resolve what to do. Gretchen, you have often told me that your peace of mind depended upon your helping to support me as long as I needed you." She looked searchingly at the girl. "What if I were to take you at your word?"

"I should keep it, for I gave it not only to you, but to God Almighty," said Gretchen. "Tell me, Ernestine, what I can do for you."

"Everything!" cried Ernestine. "You can save me from living upon charity."

"How so?"

"Can you not imagine, Gretchen, what it must be to me to accept further benefits from people whom I long to repay in kind, whom I would like to reward a thousandfold for all that they have done for me? I do not know whether you understand me when I tell you that I would far rather earn my living by the work of my hands than depend upon the kindness of those whom I once treated so arrogantly, and who have already heaped more coals of fire upon my head than I can bear. You shake your head. Your father, Gretchen, would have understood me,--his words upon this subject, the evening before he left me, are ineffaceably impressed upon my mind."

"Forgive me, Ernestine, it does not become me to depreciate my father still further in your eyes, but I cannot be silent! I have arrived at the melancholy conviction that my father never advised you well. He was wrong here too. He did not know Dr. Möllner,--he could not conceive of the depth and truth of his affection for you. Will you reward the man who has done so much for you by making him wretched? You certainly will do so if you refuse to go with him. No, Ernestine, I do not understand how you can break a man's heart just for the sake of your pride!"

Ernestine did not speak for a few moments, and then she said, "Gretchen, you are a child,--I cannot explain to you that there is a principle of honour to which one must sacrifice the happiness of a life, should circumstances demand it. You know, perhaps, that when I was wealthy and independent, Möllner offered me his hand, and that I refused it, because I could not fulfil the conditions that he proposed. Since that time his conduct has failed to assure me that he still loves me, for a nature as noble as his, is perfectly capable of sacrificing all that he has for me, from pure sympathy and mere compassion. And, even if he still loved me, could he value a heart open to the suspicion of surrendering itself to him under the pressure of necessity, not from free choice? No, Gretchen, there can be no firm structure of happiness erected upon such a foundation. This is not the time when I could withdraw my refusal to be his wife! No, no! such a course at this point would fix the blush of shame upon my forehead forever. Perhaps I may still succeed in obtaining an independence by my own exertions,--an independence that will again make me his equal. Then it would be different,--then he would know that I gave myself to him from free choice, not upon compulsion. If he should woo me then,--oh, Gretchen, it would be happiness that I scarcely dare to think of!"

Gretchen kissed a tear from Ernestine's pale cheek, and said gently, "You are not like any one else, but always true and noble. I have no right to judge you. If you say, 'Thus shall it be,' I will submit. My only desire is to obey you."