"You came so unexpectedly,--I was weak. I am ashamed of myself," she said, struggling for composure.
"You might be ashamed, if you could be what you call strong at this moment," he replied. At a sign from him, Gretchen withdrew.
Johannes gazed for a moment with intense devotion into Ernestine's eyes. "Dear heart, let me speak one fervent, last word to you. I know that I just now held another Ernestine in my arms than she who fled from me almost half a year ago. I felt it in the throbbing of your heart. But fear nothing, I am not come to take advantage of your helpless condition,--to wring from you a decision which might be stigmatized, in your present circumstances, as extorted from you by necessity. I understand you now. Yours is a nature never to yield to pressure from without,--it must take form and direction from within. It would be as useless to attempt controlling such a nature by force as to endeavour to make a rose bloom by tearing open the bud. We might destroy, but we could not unfold it. I have done all that I could to restore to you what is as necessary to you as light and air,--your independence. You once accused me of selfishness and interested motives. You shall be convinced that you did me injustice in this respect." He drew a paper from his breast-pocket. "I have succeeded through my friend Brenter, in St. Petersburg, in procuring you the offer of a position as Teacher of Natural Science in the famous Normal School established there. The place is a capital one, and has hitherto been occupied by men only. You will be entire mistress of your time, with the exception of the few hours daily spent in instruction. You can easily pursue your studies, and I can procure you admission to the scientific society of St. Petersburg. Your life there will be what your former ambition craved. You can earn your livelihood honourably, and sooner or later you will have an opportunity of attaining the goal of your desires,--a degree, for the Russian universities are not so strict as the German in the matter of admitting women to a share in their honours. Here is Brenter's letter. You see it makes you independent of all aid, even of mine. And now I venture again to ask you to make a sacrifice for me,--a great sacrifice. You cannot fear, if you now grant my suit, that any suspicion can be cast upon the freedom of your choice, or that you can be accused of being driven by necessity into my arms. If you yield now, you renounce brilliant prospects for my sake. I will urge nothing in my own behalf. Leave me, and there is a great future before you. Be mine, and my heart and home stand wide open to receive you. I will only say, 'Choose, Ernestine.'"
"And have you done this,--this for me?" said Ernestine, trembling with emotion. "How truly have you understood and respected my pride! How firm and yet how tender you are with me! How can I thank you, how repay you?"
"How, Ernestine? Let your own heart answer."
"I cannot listen to my heart alone. I must do whatever will make me worthiest of such devoted love. What shall,--what should I decide?"
"Let me tell you, if you do not know, for the last time, that true pride will teach you that you can give me nothing half so precious as yourself. The value of this gift no worldly wealth or honours could enhance. True humility will teach you to yield your fate unquestioningly to the man who gives you his very life. Go from me, and you may be great, but you cannot be womanly, and what is such greatness, attained at the cost of a heart? Give up the false pride that would seek fame beyond the bounds of a woman's sphere, and confess that you can do nothing greater than to enrich and bless, as you will when you are what God intended you should be--a true, loving woman." He broke off. "But, I repeat, the choice is yours."
"The choice? Is there any choice left for me?" cried Ernestine with sparkling eyes. "Shall I dissemble now, and try to conceal what I have scarcely been able for a long time to control! What are learning and fame, what the pride of position that you have offered me, compared with the happiness of this moment? Away with them all, and with my false pride! My choice is made, Johannes." And she sank upon his breast.
He clasped her as in a dream. Their lips met in a first long kiss, in which the lover breathed forth his long-pent-up tenderness.
She trembled like a scarce-opened flower in the first wind of summer, and yet all was as well with her as when she had, as a child, measured herself against the Titanic force of the elements in commotion around her. She knew now that love was no weakness, but a mighty power, and that it was divine to put forth this power. She raised her head at last, and looked at him with tears in her eyes. "Johannes,--dearest, best,--forgive--forgive my faults and failings--I repented them so long ago!"