ther, "when even that which in
itself is virtue, by the mode in which it is exercised, transforms
itself into a subject of censure. Above all I see pride and presumption
in this mode of acting, in your undertaking to be wise and managing
without me, when you cannot know whether by this means you are not
causing more harm than good."

"It is too much!" cried Dorothea, weeping aloud; she rose hastily, and
with covered face left the room.

All stared, but the Count seemed most surprized; he said with emotion
in his voice: "Is not the censure that has been passed on the young
lady really too much? She probably meant well; nor does it appear to me
blameable, that she performs her charitable acts in secret, that she is
perhaps a little too reserved about them, in order not to expose
herself to the appearance of ostentation."

"Of a surety, your ladyship," said the grey-headed servant, "my young
lady is an angel, so all the people in the village think her; all that
she can save out of her pocket-money, whatever she can spare of her
clothes, she lays out upon the poor, but the most beautiful thing of
all is the gracious quiet way she has, and how she calms the people,
and comforts the sick, and admonishes the children to be obedient to
their parents, who are often cross;--indeed we are to keep it a secret,
for she gave us strict orders about that, and we have done so for
years, but sooner or later a man will be caught tripping. Beg your
ladyship's pardon."

This discourse passed as the company were rising: the Baroness was in a
tremor. The Baron, with solemn face and air, kissed the mother's hand,
and endeavoured to set matters right; the Count took his leave with few
words, and Alfred accompanied him; the rest of the party went into the
garden-parlour.

"It brings no good," said the mother, "when wicked men cross our
thresholds."

"No blessing of heaven follows them," added the Baron.

"What an afternoon!" cried the Baroness, "it will be long ere I forget
it! Such men are all that is wanting in our neighbourhood, to plunge my
poor rebellious child into total ruin. But you too, my son, took more
interest in that godless man, than I or your pious Kunigunde could
wish."

"I think though," said Kunigunde's husband, "that he said many very
sensible things; I am of opinion myself, that this piety is carried too
far, and that there may be many women who think too much of
themselves."

Upon this the Baron gave him a long