er and higher,
till she almost screamed the last words.

'I cannot give you the letter, mother,' Wilhelmine returned quietly, 'I
have lost it.'

'Monsieur Gabriel,' said Frau von Graevenitz, 'perhaps you have got it? I
command you to hand it over to me.'

'Madame, I am astounded! Indeed, I have not got the letter, though
Mademoiselle Wilhelmine showed it to me on Saturday morning.'

'Yes! Saturday morning!' Frau von Graevenitz retorted with a sneer. 'Of a
truth, you and my daughter have reason to remember that day. You are a
corrupter of youth, and an evil man, Mr. Schoolmaster, and a purloiner of
letters as well.'

Monsieur Gabriel looked from the irate lady to her daughter, in
consternation and bewilderment. 'I fear, madame, that I do not understand
you,' he said gently; 'you labour under a misapprehension. I have never
had the letter in my possession. As for your other accusation, I think
you are led away by your anger. Indeed, I do not know the meaning of your
words, madame.' His calmness only served to madden Frau von Graevenitz
further. She turned away from him, and seizing Wilhelmine roughly by the
shoulder, she hissed in her ear: 'Give me the letter, you wanton!'
Wilhelmine started violently, and Monsieur Gabriel made a step forward,
as though to defend her; his face flushed deeply, and he said in a steady
voice: 'Madame de Graevenitz, such an accusation, even from a mother's
lips, is a thing to which no woman has the right to submit.' But Frau von
Graevenitz was beyond hearing; her features were distorted by rage, and
her mouth twitched convulsively. 'How dare you address me?' she screamed;
'you are my daughter's seducer--go--leave my house, and take the wages of
my daughter's sin with you!' She came up to the table, and with a sweep
of her arm scattered the gold to right and left.

'Mother!' cried Wilhelmine, 'you are mad!'

'Madame,' said Monsieur Gabriel, 'I can but obey your command to depart,'
and with a profoundly respectful bow to Wilhelmine, he quitted the
apartment with quiet dignity.

Frau von Graevenitz continued her fierce monologue for some time, without
interruption. Wilhelmine stood watching her, till an involuntary
breathless pause in her mother's torrent of words gave her the
opportunity of speech. 'You have always been unjust to me, mother,' she
said, in a hard, cold voice; 'and to-day you have insulted me, in the
presence of one you called a stranger. Yes; Friedrich wrote, proposing