In a few weeks everything was arranged. Johann Leopold had explained to the Freiherr that he was convinced of the incurability of his inherited malady, and the Freiherr acquiesced without a murmur in what was inevitable. He thought Magelone's reluctance to living for the present beneath the same roof with Johann Leopold very natural. It was more difficult, however, to induce him to agree to Otto's new plans. He declared indeed, with bitter decision, that Otto never should be intrusted with Dönninghausen, but he could not comprehend the young man's voluntary relinquishment of his rights. It irritated him afresh against the grandson whom he had hardly yet received again into favour, and at last he agreed that it would be well for Otto to go away, adding that it had best be as soon as possible: all pains were thrown away upon him. So Magelone went to visit the Walburgs in Vienna, and Otto went to St. Petersburg. It was lonely at Dönninghausen. CHAPTER XXX. AN OLD FRIEND ONCE MORE. A year and a half had passed since Johanna first went to live in 'Terrace-Cottage,' near the Kahlenberg Thor. It was the close of a gray December day; she could not see to write any longer. She rose from the table, and went to the window to read by the fading light, in a famous South German periodical brought her by Dr. Wolf, a favourable criticism of her book, which had recently appeared. As she read, she was both pleased and grieved. Where were all those in whose hearts her own joy might have found an echo? But the next moment she raised her head, and brushed away her tears. Had she not reason to be glad and grateful? "Indeed I have," she said to herself. And as she gazed out in the twilight upon the gleaming expanse of snow, she reviewed in spirit all that life had brought her here. First of all there was a long series of apparently monotonous, but in reality very beneficial, days of hard work, in which the joy and pain of her creative fancy had worn away her heart-ache, until there had come an hour which she never should forget. It was in harvest; she was walking just after sunset beside a hedge-row. White gossamers floated in the clear air; all around her there was absolute silence. Suddenly a joyous note rang out from far above her. It was a belated lark. She looked up, surprised, and in that very moment she had the sudden consciousness of relief and freedom which had so long been unknown to her. Since then she had been able to think of Otto, without bitterness, as of an entire stranger. She still had a sense of having lost something fair and sweet; but her inmost self was untouched, her true life undisturbed.