He laughed scornfully. "And because I would not consent to that, and did not break a promise given to my dying mother, then--she cast me off like a garment that does not fit comfortably enough--then--then----"
"Klaus! Klaus! for God's sake!" The anxious voice of the old lady interrupted his speaking, which had risen to vehemence.
But in the little room lay Anna Maria on her knees, her head almost touching the floor. It had become still in the next room, except for the sound of rapid steps as the young man paced the floor.
"And now--yes, yes, it had to happen!" said he softly. "I am no egoist, certainly not, but it will be unspeakably hard for me to give her up. Oh, yes, I shall see her often. I can ride over any minute; she will come to us too--certainly. But see, aunt--but I am a fool, really, a fool! It is the way of the world, and I do not understand why I did not see long ago that Stürmer is fond of Anna Maria; it is, indeed, so natural. How good it is that I am prepared; not the slightest shadow shall fall on Anna Maria's happiness. Your eyes ask that, Aunt Rose? No, be quiet, be quiet!"
Anna Maria remained motionless on the cold floor, leaning her head against the door-post. She no longer understood what they were saying in the next room; she kept hearing only that one dreadful speech: "Put the child out of the house; she interferes with our happiness!" His happiness! Klaus's happiness! She passed her cold hand over her forehead, as if she must convince herself whether or not it was a dream. No, no; she was awake, she could move her feet as well, she could walk out of the little room, along the corridor, to her own room.
Marieken was just coming along the passage. Anna Maria stopped, and bade her say to Fräulein Rosamond that she was not coming to the table; she had a headache, and wanted to be alone that evening.
The girl looked in alarm at the pale face of her mistress. "Shall I call Brockelmann?" she asked anxiously.
Anna Maria made a negative gesture, and laid her hand on the door-knob, and then turned her head. "Marieken!"
"It is nothing--only go!" She then hastily turned away, and shut and bolted her door at once.
"She wishes to be alone with her thoughts," remarked Aunt Rosamond at the supper table, where she and Klaus sat, right and left of the absent one's place. Klaus did not reply at once, but looked at that place and said at length: "So it will always be, soon!" And the old lady nodded sadly; she knew not what to reply, and a secret anxiety about the future stole over her, since she had seen that Klaus still bore the old wound which he had received many years ago. She had supposed it healed long since.