once to light his pipe.
Linda, on that occasion, and on many others subsequently, came and
sat in the room, and there would be almost absolute silence. There
might be a question asked about the household, and Linda would answer
it; or Peter might remark that such a one among the small city
dealers had been fined before the magistrates for some petty breach
of the city's laws. But of conversation there was none, and Peter
never on these evenings addressed himself specially to Linda. It was
quite understood that she was to undergo persuasion, not from Peter,
but from her aunt.

About the middle of February her aunt made her last attack on poor
Linda. For days before something had been said daily; some word had
been spoken in which Madame Staubach alluded to the match as an
affair which would certainly be brought about sooner or later. And
there were prayers daily for the softening of Linda's heart. And it
was understood that every one in the house was supposed to be living
under some special cloud of God's anger till Linda's consent should
have been given. Madame Staubach had declared during the ecstasy of
her devotion, that not only she herself, but even Tetchen also, would
become the prey of Satan if Linda did not relent. Linda had almost
acknowledged to herself that she was in the act of bringing eternal
destruction on all those around her by her obstinacy. Oh, if she
could only herself be dead, let the eternal consequences as they
regarded herself alone be what they might!

"Linda," said her aunt, "is it not time at length that you should
give us an answer?"

"An answer, aunt Charlotte?" As if she had not given a sufficiency of
answers.

"Do you not see how others suffer because of your obstinacy?"

"It is not my doing."

"It is your doing. Do not allow any such thought as that to get into
your mind, and assist the Devil in closing the door of your heart.
They who are your friends are bound to you, and cannot separate
themselves from you."

"Who are my friends?"

"I am sorry you should ask that question, Linda."

"I have no friends."

"Linda, that is ungrateful to God, and thankless. I say nothing of
myself."

"You are my friend, but no one else."

"Herr Molk is your friend, and has shown himself to be so. Jacob
Heisse is your friend." He, too, using such wisdom as he possessed,
had recommended Linda to take the husband provided for her. "Peter
Steinmarc is your friend."

"No, he is not," said Lin