ly wave
her hand silently towards the nearest chair. He knew what the matter
was, let him begin the dreadful conversation.

"You wish for my advice, Mrs. Linden, in this difficult matter?"

"Yes, I wish you to act for me," she said, looking past him into the
corner of the room, "and I wish above all that Mr. Linden should be
informed of the decision I have come to. I will leave him in possession
of my whole fortune with the exception of this house, and the capital
that is invested in my brother-in-law's factory."

She said the words hurriedly, as if she had learned them by heart.

"Are you quite in earnest about it then?" asked the old man.

Her eyes blazed out at him.

"Do you think I would jest on such a sorrowful subject?"

"And you think your husband will agree?"

"It is _your_ affair, Mr. Schmidt, to arrange this."

He bowed without speaking. She too was silent. An oppressive stillness
reigned in the room, in the whole house. It seemed to Gertrude as if
she had just heard her sentence of death.

"There will be a bad storm to-day," said the judge after awhile. "I
must leave you now, madam, and as I am half-way to Niendorf now, I will
just drive over, to arrange the matter with your husband in person."

"To-day?" She was startled into saying it.

He hesitated and looked at her.

"You are right, to-morrow will suit me better too--let us say the day
after to-morrow."

"No," she replied, hastily, "go at once, it will be better, much
better."

She got up in some confusion; her headache, the consciousness that she
had now set the ball rolling nearly overwhelmed her. She accompanied
the lawyer mechanically to the head of the stairs; then she remained
standing in the corridor, her hand pressing her throbbing temples, half
unconscious.

She could hear Johanna in the kitchen, and as if she could bear the
loneliness no longer she went in and sat down on a chair beside the
white scoured table. Johanna was standing before it, choosing between
ivy-leaves and cypress-twigs. Her eyes were red with crying, and large
drops fell now and then on the hands which were making a wreath. The
whole kitchen smelled of death and funerals.

"What are you doing there?" asked Gertrude.

Johanna looked away and suppressed a sob.

"It will be a year to-morrow," she replied in a choked voice, "since
they brought him home to me dead."

"Ah, true."

The two women looked deep into each other's sorrowful eyes, each with
the t