them, weeping all the while as she thought of the wreck she had made
of herself. But no; it was not she who had made the wreck. She had
been ruined by the cruelty of that man whose step at this moment she
heard beneath her. She clenched her fist, and pressed her little foot
against the floor, as she thought of the injury which this man had
done her. There was not enough of charity in her religion to induce
her even to think that she would ever cease to hate him with all the
vigour of her heart. Then Tetchen came to her, and told her that her
aunt had returned and desired to see her. Linda instantly went down
to the parlour. Up to this moment she was as a child in her aunt's
hands.

"Sit down, Linda," said Madame Staubach, who had taken off her
bonnet, and was already herself stiffly seated in her accustomed
chair. "Sit down, my dear, while I speak to you." Linda sat down at
some distance from her aunt, and awaited dumbly the speech that was
to be made to her. "Linda," continued Madame Staubach, "I have been
this afternoon to the house of your friend Herr Molk." Linda said
nothing out loud, but she declared to herself that Herr Molk was no
friend of hers. Friend indeed! Herr Molk had shown himself to be
one of her bitterest enemies. "I thought it best to see him after
what--has been done, especially as he had been with you when you were
ill, before you went." Still Linda said nothing. What was there that
she could possibly say? Madame Staubach paused, not expecting her
niece to speak, but collecting her own thoughts and arranging her
words. "And Peter Steinmarc was there also," said Madame Staubach.
Upon hearing this Linda's heart sank within her. Had all her
sufferings, then, been for nothing? Had she passed that terrible
night, that terrible day, with no result that might be useful to her?
But even yet might there not be hope? Was it not possible that her
aunt was about to communicate to her the fact that Peter Steinmarc
declined to be bound by his engagement to her? She sighed deeply and
almost sobbed, as she clasped her hands together. Her aunt observed
it all, and then went on with her speech. "You will, I hope, have
understood, Linda, that I have not wished to upbraid you."

"You have been very good, aunt Charlotte."

"But you must know that that which you have done is,--is,--is a thing
altogether destructive of a young woman's name and character." Madame
Staubach's voice, as she said this, was tremulous with