s that
she knew that something was to happen, because Linda's manner to her
had been completely changed that morning. She sat down with her aunt
at eight, and ate a morsel of bread, and endeavoured to swallow her
coffee. She was thinking at the time that it might be the case that
she would never see her aunt again. All the suffering that she had
endured at Madame Staubach's hands had never quenched her love.
Miserable as she had been made by the manner in which this woman had
executed the trust which circumstances had placed in her hands, Linda
had hardly blamed her aunt even within her own bosom. When with a
frenzy of agony Madame Staubach would repeat prayer after prayer,
extending her hands towards heaven, and seeking to obtain that which
she desired by the painful intensity of her own faith, it had never
occurred to Linda that in such proceedings she was ill-treated by
her aunt. Her aunt, she thought, had ever shown to her all that love
which a mother has for her child, and Linda in her misery was never
ungrateful. As soon as the meal was finished she put on her hat and
cloak, which she had brought down from her room, and then kissed her
aunt.

"God bless you, my child," said Madame Staubach, "and enable you to
be an affectionate and dutiful wife to your husband." Then Linda went
forth from the room and from the house, and as she went she cast her
eyes around, thinking that it might be possible that she should never
see them again.

Linda told no lie as she left her aunt, but she felt that she was
acting a lie. It had been arranged between them, before she had
entertained this thought of escaping from Nuremberg, that she should
on this morning go out by herself and make certain purchases. In
spite of the things that had been done, of Valcarm's visit to the
upper storeys of the house, of the flight to Augsburg, of Linda's
long protracted obstinacy and persistently expressed hatred for the
man who was to be her husband, Madame Staubach still trusted her
niece. She trusted Linda perhaps the more at this time from a feeling
that she had exacted so much from the girl. When, therefore, Linda
kissed her and went out, she had no suspicion on her mind; nor was
any aroused till the usual dinner-hour was passed, and Linda was
still absent. When Tetchen at one o'clock said something of her
wonder that the fraulein had not returned, Madame Staubach had
suggested that she might be with her friend Herr Molk. Tetchen knew
what