Aunt Thekla saw that she had again been entirely mistaken. She saw that man's fidelity, Schiller's assertion notwithstanding, is a mere illusion; saw that there was no fitting place for her in this age of steam, when everything is whirled into the past with such lightning rapidity. And while she resigned herself to melancholy reflection, Magelone shook care and repentance, anger and love's pain, from her wings, and soared singing into her world like the lark. When Löbel Wolf, true to his promise, went, a few days after this, to Hanover, and called upon Johanna, she had just driven out with her little convalescent. A great part of the time which he had reserved for her was thus wasted, but the short interview which he was able to obtain with her was long enough to convince him of the uselessness of further persuasion. She repeated to the father what she had already told the son,--that she either had no claim to the possession of the jewels, or that she ought not to sell them, and added, "Entreat my grandfather to have no anxiety upon my account. Heaven has endowed me with a talent by which I hope to earn my daily bread." Löbel Wolf shook his head. He was sorry to find her so stubborn and unpractical. He had no desire to report personally the failure of this second attempt. He wrote to the Freiherr, and repeated to him faithfully Johanna's words. The following evening Johanna and Lisbeth were alone together in Helena's little drawing-room. The weather was oppressively warm; all the windows were open, but they seemed to admit only the dust and noise of the street. The child was sitting on the window-seat, with her sister's arm around her. She was impatiently watching the passing equipages, and wondering why her mamma never, never stayed at home. Then, bursting into tears, she added, "I do not want to be always waiting, waiting here. You must go away with me, Johanna." Before Johanna could reply, there was a knock at the door, and in answer to her "Come in!" Dr. Wolf entered the room. "It is my Dr. Wolf!" Lisbeth cried, in glee; for she had soon made friends with him, and now regarded him quite as her own property. Scrambling down from the window-seat, she took possession of him; but whilst he listened to her childish talk, and answered her as kindly as ever, he glanced from time to time, with an anxious expression, at Johanna. Did she really look paler and more weary than usual, or did fancy show him what he had expected to see? At last, when the child, sitting in his lap, was busy with a book of pictures which he had brought her, he handed Johanna a newspaper. It contained the first chapters of her novel. "Will you pardon me for acting thus upon my own responsibility?" he asked. "Pardon? I am most grateful to you," said Johanna, blushing with pleasure.