and
as the new-made wife knew that she and I were as one she did not forbid
me from going upstairs, where Pernhart had made dead Gertrude's room
all clean and fresh for Ann. Now whereas I knew that when her head
ached every noise gave her pain, I mounted the steps with great care and
opened the door softly without knocking. Also she was not aware of my
coming. I would fain have crept away unseen; or even rather would have
fallen on my knees by her side to crave her forgiveness for the bitter
wrong my brother had done her. She was lying on the bed, her face hidden
in the pillows, and her slender body shook as in an ague fit, while she
sobbed low but right bitterly. Nor did she mark my presence there till
I fell on my knees by the bed and cast my arms about her. Then she
suddenly raised herself from the pillows, passed her hand across her wet
eyes, and entreated me to leave her. Yet I did not as she bade me; and
when she saw how deeply I took her griefs to heart, she rose from her
couch, on which she had lain down with all her clothes on, and only
prayed me that this should be the last time I would ever speak with her
of Herdegen.

Then she led me to her table and showed me things which she had laid out
thereon; poor little gifts which my brother had brought her; every one,
except only the Petrarca with the names in gold: Anna-Laura. And she
desired that I would take them all and send them back to Herdegen at
some fitting time.

As I nodded sadly enough, she must have seen in my face that I missed
the little volumes and, ere I was aware, she had taken them out of her
chest and thrown them in with the rest.

Then she cried in a changed voice: "That likewise--Ah, no, not that! It
is the best gift he ever made me, and he was so good and kind then--You
do not know, you do not know!--How I long to keep the books! But away,
away with them!"

Then she put everything into a silken kerchief, tied it up with hard
knots, pushed the bundle into my hand, and besought me to go home.

I went home, sick at heart, with the bundle in my cold hand, and when
the door was opened by Akusch, who, poor wight, bore our bitter winters
but ill, I heard from above-stairs loud and right merry laughter and
glee; and I knew it for the voice of Cousin Maud who seemed overpowered
by sheer mirth. My wrath flared up, for our house this day was of a
certainty the last where such merriment was fitting.

My cheeks were red from the snow-storm, yet rag