"You were asleep, grandpapa, and Johann Leopold had to hurry to catch the two-o'clock train. He had something to attend to in town, he said, but would return to Thalrode in the four-o'clock train. If my cousin Waldemar comes, they will surely meet."

"Indeed they will. We may rely upon that. From their very infancy they always stood by each other in every silly prank," the Freiherr said, but in a tone so kindly that Aunt Thekla breathed afresh.

"How did you know all this, my dear Johanna?" Magelone asked, as the Freiherr resumed his walk.

"As I was starting for the village, Johann Leopold was just driving off," she replied, "and he took me and my bundles as far as the parsonage----"

"It was odd not to bid us good-by!" said Magelone.

Hildegard approached her. "Why, child, he probably feared your tender remonstrances," she said, scornfully, "or it may perhaps have occurred to him at the twelfth hour to purchase you a betrothal-gift."

Magelone shrugged her shoulders impatiently. At this moment old Christian entered with the lamp, followed by Otto, who handed a letter to the Freiherr. "From Waldemar," he said. "It has just been brought by an express from Thalrode."

"He's not coming; I knew it," whispered Magelone.

The Freiherr went to the light and began to read, his face brightening at every word. Before he had finished the sheet he cried out, "This is a surprise! The boy could not have pleased me more. He is betrothed!"

"Waldemar! Betrothed? To whom?" several voices exclaimed together.

"Hear what he says," said the Freiherr. "The letter is from Vienna. We now know what the urgent business was that kept him away at Christmas.

But listen. I will spare you the beginning. Here: 'Since yesterday the happiest of men----' Of course. 'My betrothed, Maria Therese Antoinette Walburg, is the second daughter of Count Anton, the chief of the elder--that is, of the Protestant--branch. Her mother was a Rothkirch; her grandmother, Theodora Klausenburg, you used to know, my dear grandfather. Antoinette is said to resemble her. She is eighteen years old, with light-brown hair, blue eyes, a lovely colour, and is tall and stately, like all the Klausenburg women,--only, between ourselves, more graceful and elegant. Her loveliness, her modesty, her childish gayety, make all hearts her captives----' and so forth, and so on! He continues in that strain a long while, which is of small account, for the lad is in love. But the family is good, and this child probably takes after them. G.o.d bless them both!"

Aunt Thekla wiped her eyes; the Freiherr rose, and again paced the room to and fro. "To-morrow we will celebrate a double betrothal, and as soon as possible a double marriage!" he began again after a while. "This joy is quite unexpected. All my Donninghausens shall rejoice with me. I will give an entertainment that shall be the talk of their grandchildren and great-grandchildren. As for you, Thekla, tell my steward to give you whatever you need for your infant-school."

"Thank you, dear Johann, a thousand times!" she said, blushing with pleasure, as she went to her brother and embraced him.

"That will do, sister, that will do!" he said, extricating himself from her embrace. "Come, be quick! Light the tree and send for the children.

I want merry faces about me!"

In a few moments the room was illumined by the magic light of the Christmas-tree, and rang with merry childish voices, while little hands were eagerly lifted to receive the last of the tree's sweet fruits, which the great-grandfather detached and put into them. Hildegard and Hedwig, much excited, exchanged with Magelone and Otto information with regard to the Walburgs and Rothkirchs, while Aunt Thekla listened to the raging of the storm.

"Where can the Wildenhayns be, and Johann Leopold?" she said. "The carriage ought to have been back from Thalrode as soon as the express."

"Perhaps it is waiting for the eight-o'clock train," said Johanna.

"If I knew that it was waiting in Thalrode, a messenger might be sent,"

said Aunt Thekla. "But if Johann Leopold has remained in town----"

She did not finish the sentence. Old Christian entered, and begged Johanna to come into the corridor for a moment.

"What is the matter?" asked Aunt Thekla.

"Some one wishes to speak to the Fraulein Johanna," the old man said, in evident agitation.

Johanna, thinking of Christine, went out hastily, to cut short further explanations; but instead of her whom she expected to see, she was confronted by a man, tall and broad-shouldered. "Dear Johanna!" he said, advancing and holding out his hand.

"Ludwig!" she exclaimed, delighted. But she was instantly struck by his pale, distressed look. "For G.o.d's sake, what has happened?" she asked, keeping his hand tightly clasped in both her own. "What brings you here?"

"I come from Hanover, from the death-bed of a friend. But that is not what is the matter. I must consult you."

They whispered together for a few moments, then Ludwig followed Christian up-stairs, and Johanna returned to the drawing-room.

With some hesitation she approached the Freiherr, who was now sitting before the fire, surrounded by the children. "Dear grandfather," she said, standing behind his chair, so that he could not see her face, "my foster-brother, Dr. Ludwig Werner, has come."

"Dr. Ludwig Werner?" the Freiherr repeated. "Yes, yes, I recollect.

Well, where is he?"

Johanna used all her self-control. "He has not come for a visit," she said. "He has been in Hanover, and was going directly back to Lindenbad, but when the train stopped at Thalrode, Johann Leopold fell in leaving it, and----"

"Dead!" cried the Freiherr, sitting erect in his chair. "Say the word at once, without the torture of preparation," he added, as his sister came to him and took his hand.

"No, he lives; be a.s.sured of that," said Johanna. "He is only stunned by the fall, and that is why Ludwig has come with him. They have carried him to his room."

For a moment the Freiherr seemed utterly crushed, but with a mighty effort he rose and stood erect. "Come, Thekla," he said, in a monotone.

"So long as he breathes let us hope!"

CHAPTER X.

"THAT BLASe LIEUTENANT."

It was a sad New Year's day for Donninghausen. Instead of the double celebration, with its gay antic.i.p.ations for the future, there were weary anxious hours beside a sick-bed. Johann Leopold had not yet recovered consciousness. The old family physician shrugged his shoulders and admitted that he was powerless, and the physician summoned from town p.r.o.nounced that in his opinion the patient's condition would end either in death or insanity. Ludwig alone did not relinquish hope, and the calmness in his face and bearing inspired those about him with courage.

Therefore the Freiherr would not hear of his leaving them. "I beg you, stay with us! If you can do but little for my grandson at present, I still must consider your mere presence as a benefit," he said, when Ludwig requested to be driven to Thalrode.

"Yes, if you possibly can, stay with us," Aunt Thekla added; and Ludwig could not feel himself justified in refusing the entreaty of the old brother and sister.

On New Year's evening some of the younger members of the family were a.s.sembled in the drawing-room. Hedwig, the last to join them, went shivering to the fire, and stretched out her hands before the blaze.

"I am cold to my very bones," she said. "As I pa.s.sed the ball-room just now, the door was open, and by the light of the hall-lamp, I saw the long white-covered table, and thought how soon it might be replaced by black trestles. Oh, I wish we were away! but Eduard says we mast stay it out."

"Of course we must!" Hildegard exclaimed. "What would grandpapa think of our leaving him alone now? At such times the family must hold together."

"I don't see what good our holding together can do," said Magelone.

"With the exception of Johanna, who sees that grandpapa and Aunt Thekla do not starve beside the sick-bed----"

"They would be taken care of without her," Hildegard interposed.

"However, if she chooses to play Martha, let her; our task will be different, and much more difficult, at the death-bed and the funeral."

"How can you think of death and a funeral all because of a fall on the head!" exclaimed Magelone, rising and going to a window-recess.

Hildegard smiled disdainfully. "The fable of the ostrich," she said.

"But what is to be will be, however we may close our eyes to it."

"Do you really think, then, that he will die?" asked Hedwig.