o her friend, false to her vows,
false to her God, immodest, unclean, had sinned against all the laws
by which women bind themselves together for good conduct,--had in
fact become a castaway in very deed. There was nothing that a female
could do more vile, more loathsome than that which Linda had done.
Madame Staubach believed that the time had come in which it would be
wicked to spare, and she did not spare. Linda grovelled at her feet,
and could only pray that God might take her to Himself at once. "He
will never take you; never, never, never," said Madame Staubach;
"Satan will have you for his own, and all my prayers will be of no
avail."

There were two days such as this, and Linda was still alive and still
bore it. On the third day, which was the fifth after her return from
Augsburg, Herr Molk came to her, and at his own request was alone
with her. He did not vituperate her as her aunt had done, nor did he
express any special personal horror at her sin; but he insisted very
plainly on the position which she had made for herself. "You see,
my dear, the only thing for you is to be married out of hand at
once, and then nobody will say anything about it. And what is the
difference if he is a little old? girls forget to think about that
after a month or two; and then, you see, it will put an end to all
your troubles;--to all your troubles." Such were the arguments of
Herr Molk; and it must be acknowledged that such arguments were not
lacking in strength, nor were they altogether without truth. The
little story of Linda's journey to Augsburg had been told throughout
the city, and there were not wanting many who said that Peter
Steinmarc must be a very good-natured man indeed, if, after all that
had passed, he would still accept Linda Tressel as his wife. "You
should remember all that of course, my dear," said Herr Molk.

How was it possible that Linda should stand alone against such
influence as had been brought to bear against her? She was quite
alone, for she would not admit of any intimacy with Tetchen. She
would hardly speak to the old woman. She was quite aware that Tetchen
had arranged with Ludovic the manner of her elopement; and though she
felt no anger with him, still she was angry with the servant whose
duplicity had helped to bring about the present misery. Had she not
fled with her lover she might then,--so she thought now,--have held
her ground against her aunt and against Peter. As things had gone
with h