"Tell me, Gertrude," he began, suddenly, "where is your villa 'Waldruhe?'"
His young wife started as if a snake had stung her. "Our--my villa?" she gasped, "how did you know--who told you about the villa?"
He was silent. "I cannot remember who," he said after a pause, "but some one must have told me that there is a little wood belonging to it. But, Gertrude, what is the matter?" he inquired. "You are trembling!"
"Ah, Frank, who told you about _that_?" she reiterated, "and _what_?"
Her voice had so sad a ring in it that he perceived at once that he had hurt her.
"Gertrude, have I hurt you? I beg your pardon a thousand times; I was only thinking of cheaper timber which I might have cut there this winter."
"Timber? There? It is only a park. Ah, Frank--"
"But what is it pray?" he asked with a little impatience. "I cannot possibly know--"
"No, you cannot know," she assented. "It was only the shock--I ought to have told you long ago, only it is so frightfully hard for me to speak of it. You ought to know about it too, but--tell me who told you about it?"
"But when I assure you, my child, that I cannot remember."
"Frank," said his young wife, in a low, hesitating tone, "out there--in 'Waldruhe,' my poor father died--"
"It was there--he--he killed himself." Her voice was scarcely audible.
He bent down over her, greatly shocked. "My poor child, I did not know that, or I would not have spoken of it."
"And I found him, Frank. He built 'Waldruhe' when I was but a child, and he used to go and stay there for weeks together. It is so hard to talk of it--he was not happy, Frank. Ah, we will not dwell on it. Mamma did not understand him, and it was the day after Christmas and I knew they had had a dispute; that is not the right word for it either, for papa never contradicted her, and he bore so patiently all her crying and complaining. After awhile I heard the carriage drive away. It was in the morning--and I had such a strange feeling of anxiety and dread and after dinner I put on my hat and cloak and ran out of the Bergedorf gate along the high road, on and on till I came to 'Waldruhe.' I was surprised to see that the blinds were shut in his room, but I saw the fresh wheel-tracks in front of the house. The gardener's wife, who lives in a little cottage on the place, said he was upstairs. He _was_ upstairs--yes--but he was dead!"