time
in doing this.

This letter written, Anton said to Karl, "If he does not confess to his
parents, I shall state the whole affair to the baron in his presence the
very next day after his arrival. Don't try to dissuade me; you are just
like your father."

The consequence of this communication was, that Eugene left off writing
to Anton, and that his next letter to his father contained a rather
unintelligible clause: "Wohlfart," he said, "was a man to whom he
certainly had obligations; only the worst of that kind of people was,
that they took advantage of these to adopt a dictatorial tone that was
unbearable; therefore it was best civilly to shake them off."

This opinion was quite after the baron's own heart, and he warmly
applauded it. "Eugene always takes the right view of the case," said he;
"and I too earnestly long for the day when I shall be able to
superintend the property, and to dismiss our Mr. Wohlfart."

The baroness, who had read the letter out to her husband, merely
replied, "You would miss Wohlfart very much if he were to leave you."

Lenore, however, was unable to suppress her displeasure; and, leaving
the room in silence, she went to look for Anton out of doors.

"What are you and Eugene differing about?" she cried, as soon as she saw
him.

"Has he been complaining of me to you?" inquired Anton, in return.

"Not to me; but in his letter to my father he does not speak as he ought
of one who has been so kind to him."

"Perhaps this is accidental--a fit of ill-humor that will pass off."

"No, it is more, and I will know about it."

"If it be more, you can only hear it from himself."

"Then, Wohlfart," cried Lenore, "Eugene has been doing something wrong,
and you know of it."

"Be that as it may," returned Anton, gravely, "it is not my secret, else
I should not withhold it from you. I pray you to believe that I have
acted uprightly toward your brother."

"What I believe little signifies," cried Lenore. "I am to know nothing;
I understand nothing; I can do nothing in this wretched world but grieve
and fret when others are unjust to you."

"I very often," continued Anton, "feel the responsibility laid upon me
by your father's indisposition a grievous burden. It is natural that he
should be annoyed with me when I have to communicate unwelcome facts.
This can not be avoided. I have strength, however, to brave much that is
painful, so long as you and the baroness are unshaken in your conviction