During the reading of this letter the Freiherr had been pacing deliberately to and fro, and he continued to do so in silence. Johann Leopold, having read it, said nothing, but gazed thoughtfully into the fire. Aunt Thekla took the letter and read it through again to herself. Magelone's entreaty for forgiveness touched her heart. The young creature was right; Aunt Thekla could not be angry with her long. The sins of her frivolity were atoned for by her grace. Once more it was the old lady's earnest desire to befriend her spoiled darling; and, summoning up all her courage, she said, at last,-- "Dear brother, I must answer this. What shall I write?" "Whatever you choose!" he cried, as he passed her. Suddenly he turned short round, and came up to the table upon which stood the lamp. His face wore a marble look of anger and determination. "No, not whatever you choose!" he said, harshly. "Who knows what concessions you may be induced to make? You will write to the Frau Baroness von Erlenbusch that the members of my family are not in the world solely to enjoy themselves, but to do their confounded duty as far as they can, and to fulfil their responsibilities. Those who prefer mere enjoyment must find it elsewhere. There is no place for them among us." "But surely, if Magelone," Aunt Thekla began again, "were to come here to ask your forgiveness----" "She would find the doors closed!" the Freiherr interrupted her. "Unless, indeed, the Herr Baron Felix von Erlenbusch should fulfil his wife's expectations and run through his swindler-father's money. If she should then return to us alone, and needy, she shall have food and shelter. So long, however, as she makes merry with that clique, her foot shall never cross my threshold. Not a word, sister!" he added, raising his voice. "Remember Agnes and Johanna! I cannot at the eleventh hour be false to what has been my principle of action during my life." And after a pause, he said, more gently, "We must submit, Thekla. Solitude is the sad dowry of age. We no longer understand the young, nor do they understand us." But the Freiherr did not find it easy to practise the submission which he enjoined upon his sister. Long as he had been deprived of Otto's and Magelone's presence, he felt really separated from them only when he could no longer hope to see them vindicate, according to his ideas, the honour of the family. "I am only an old, decayed trunk," he said, on the morning of New Year's day, when Aunt Thekla offered him her New Year's wishes. "Not only has winter robbed me of my garniture of leaves, but my stout young branches have fallen off. All is wellnigh over with Dönninghausen!" In this same mood he was sitting at breakfast with his sister and nephew on the morning of the 3d of January, when Dr. Werner was announced.