acted."

Annele poured forth all this venom with her back upon her husband, as
if calling the world to witness his degradation. Her utter ignoring of
his presence, and thus speaking of him in the third person, was a
keener stab than even her cruel epithets.

With great self-control he said: "Do not speak so, Annele; it is not
yourself, but a devil speaking in you. And do not crush the little
flower; keep it sacred."

"Ha, ha!" laughed Annele. "That is too much. I won't give way to such
miserable superstition. Out of the window, Edelweiss, and take this
precious bit of writing with you."

A tempest of wind was raging without.

"Come, Wind," she cried, as she threw open the window; "come, take
all this sacred trumpery." She let go flower and letter. The wind
whistled and howled, and whirled them high in the air over the bald
mountain-top.

"What have you done, Annele?" groaned Lenz.

"I am not superstitious like you, nor am I yet fallen so low as to make
an idol of such trash."

"It is no superstition. My mother only meant that so long as my wife
honored the memory of my parents, a blessing would rest upon the house.
But nothing is sacred to you."

"I do not hold you sacred, nor your mother either."

"That is too much, too much!" cried Lenz, his voice choked with the
passion he in vain endeavored to repress. "Leave the room and take the
boy with you. I have heard enough. Go, or you will drive me mad!--Hush!
There is some one at the door."

Annele withdrew with the child into the inner chamber, just as the
doctor entered the room.

"It is as I feared," he said. "Your uncle will not lift a hand to help
you. He says you married against his will, and not another word can I
get from him. I have used every argument in my power; all was vain. He
at last almost turned me out of the house."

"And all because of me! I must bring evil on all who love me and try to
serve me. Forgive me, doctor. I cannot help it."

"Why, how you talk; of course you cannot help it. I have known plenty
of strange men in my life, but never one like your uncle. He opened his
whole heart to me, and a tender heart it is; he is not a jot behind the
rest of your family in that. I thought I surely had him and could guide
him like a child; but when it came to money, off he was again." Here
the doctor gave an expressive snap of his fingers. "Nothing more was to
be got out of him. In fact, I don't believe he has anything besides a
trifling annu