"Mrs. Linden regrets that she is not well enough to receive visitors," announced Johanna with her eyes cast down.
Two of the occupants of the carriage looked disappointed, while the judge felt in his pocket for his card-case.
"There!" He gave the servant the turned-down card.
"And here is a letter, an _important letter_--do you understand, Johanna? My compliments, and I trust she will soon recover."
Aunt Rosa, however, was silent, and when they looked at her more closely they saw she was asleep, the wrinkled old face nodding absurdly above the enormous bow under her chin.
"Burmann, drive slowly, when we get to the wood," whispered the judge, "Miss Rosa is asleep."
The coachman made a clucking sound with his tongue and drove noiselessly over the soft grass-grown road. Johanna could see that the judge moved over from the middle of the seat opposite the young lady and that she glowed suddenly like the feathers on her hat.
Johanna went back into the house with her card and letter and gave them to Gertrude.
"The judge gave it to me," replied Johanna, as she left the room in which, in spite of the outside heat, the air was always damp and cold.
Gertrude slowly opened the letter. It was in his handwriting--she had expected it. Her heart beat so quickly she could scarcely breathe, and the letters danced before her eyes. It was some time before she could read it:
"GERTRUDE--Wolff died last evening. It is no longer possible to call him to account on earth; it is no longer possible to expose his guilt. He has gone to his grave without having cleared me from his calumny. I remain before you as a guilty person, and I can do nothing more than declare once more that we--you and I, are the victims of a scoundrel. I have never spoken with Wolff of your fortune nor called in his intervention in any way. I leave the rest to you and to your consideration. I shall never force you to return to me, neither shall I ever consent to a divorce. Come home, Gertrude, come soon and all shall be forgotten. The house is empty, and my heart is still more so--have faith in me again. Your FRANK."'
She had just finished reading these words when Uncle Henry came in. The little gentleman had evidently dined well--his face shone with good-humor.