son accosted replied in defence,
almost weeping. "The lass has done nothing bad, and he is certainly a
respectable man. O Fraeulein, when one is young one knows too----"

"For shame, Maertensen!" This came vehemently. "You know what I have
said. Take your Marieken and go. I will have no frivolous maids in my
house!"

The door was now opened wide, and an old woman came out, her wrinkled
face red with excitement.

"Come, lass," she called to the girl, who had just put her apron over
her eyes again; "troubles don't last forever! She'll feel it herself
some day yet! Driving away my girl as if she had been stealing!" And
without greeting the old lady, she seized her daughter by the arm and
drew her away with her.

Rosamond von Hegewitz turned slowly to the door. A half-mocking,
half-earnest expression lay on the wise old face. "_Bon soir_, Anna
Maria!" said she, as she entered the brightly lighted sitting-room.

A girl rose from the chair before the massive secretary, went toward the
new-comer, and received her with that formality which at the beginning
of our century had not yet disappeared from the circle of gentle
families, pressing to her lips the outstretched hand with an expression
of deepest respect.

"Good evening, aunt; how are you feeling?"

It was the same rich voice that had spoken before, and, like it, could
belong only to such a fresh young creature. Anna Maria von Hegewitz was
just turned eighteen, and the whole charm of these eighteen years was
woven about her slender figure and the rosy face under her braids of
fair hair. In contradiction to this girlishness, a pair of deep gray
eyes looked out from beneath the white forehead, seriously, and with
almost a look of experience, which, with a peculiar self-conscious
expression about the mouth, lent a certain austerity to the face.

"Thank you, my dear, I am well," replied the old lady, seating herself
at the round table before the sofa, upon which were burning four candles
in shining brass candlesticks. "Don't let me interrupt you, _ma
mignonne_. I see I have broken in upon your writing; are you writing to
Klaus?"

"I have only been looking over the grain accounts, aunt; I shall be done
in a moment. I shall not write again to Klaus, for he must return day
after to-morrow at the latest. If you will excuse me a moment----"

"Oh, certainly, child. I will occupy myself alone meanwhile." The old
lady drew her knitting-work from the silk bag and began to w