; "it is better that your elders should know such
things,--always better. But go on, my dear." Then she told also how
the lover had come down, or had gone up, through the rafters, and the
old man smiled. Perhaps he had hidden himself among rafters fifty
years ago, and had some sweet remembrance of the feat. And now Linda
wanted to know what was she to do, and how she ought to act. The
house was her own, but she would not for worlds drive her aunt out
of it. She loved her lover very dearly, and she could not love Peter
Steinmarc at all,--not in that way.

"Has the young man means to support a wife?" asked Herr Molk. Linda
hesitated, knowing that there was still a thing to be told, which she
had not as yet dared to mention. She knew too that it must be told.
Herr Molk, as she hesitated, asked a second question on this very
point. "And what is the young man's name, my dear? It all depends on
his name and character, and whether he has means to support a wife."

"His name--is--Ludovic Valcarm," said Linda, whispering the words
very low.

The old man jumped from his seat with an alacrity that Linda had
certainly not expected. "Ludovic--Valcarm!" he said; "why, my dear,
the man is in prison this moment. I signed the committal yesterday
myself."

"In prison!" said Linda, rising also from her chair.

"He is a terrible young man," said Herr Molk--"a very terrible young
man. He does all manner of things;--I can't explain what. My dear
young woman, you must not think of taking Ludovic Valcarm for your
husband; you must not, indeed. You had better make up your mind to
take Peter Steinmarc. Peter Steinmarc can support a wife, and is very
respectable. I have known Peter all my life. Ludovic Valcarm! Oh
dear! That would be very bad,--very bad indeed!"

Linda's distress was excessive. It was not only that the tidings
which she heard of Ludovic were hard to bear, but it seemed that
Herr Molk was intent on ranging himself altogether with her enemies
respecting Peter Steinmarc. In fact, the old man's advice to her
respecting Peter was more important in her mind that his denunciation
of Ludovic. She did not quite credit what he said of Ludovic. It
was doubtless true that Ludovic was in prison; probably for some
political offence. But such men, she thought, were not kept in prison
long. It was bad, this fact of her lover's imprisonment; but not so
bad as the advice which her counsellor gave her, and which she knew
she would be bound