Meanwhile Hawermann had arrived at Mrs. Behrens' house in Rahnstädt. He had left the high road and had gone round by a field-path, that he might have time to regain his composure before meeting his daughter. When he reached Mrs. Behrens' house he had regained his self-command, but the struggle had fatigued him so much that he looked ten years older than usual when Mrs. Behrens saw him. She was making the coffee when he entered the room, and was so startled by the change in his appearance that she allowed the coffee to boil over, and sprang to meet him, exclaiming: "Good God! Hawermann, what's the matter? Are you ill?"--"No--Yes, I think so. Where's Louisa?"--"She went to meet you, didn't you see her? But sit down, do. How very tired you look!"--Hawermann seated himself and looked round the room as if to make sure that he and Mrs. Behrens were alone.--"Hawermann, please tell me what is the matter," she said, taking his nerveless hands between her own.--"It is all over with me now. I must go through the world as a useless, dishonoured man."--"Oh, don't! Don't! Don't say that!"--"I had grown accustomed to the thought that my work was done, though it was hard to bear at first. But the misery of losing my honest name is more than I can endure; it crushes me."--"But who wants to deprive you of that?" asked Mrs. Behrens looking at him affectionately.--"The people who can do it most thoroughly, Mr. von Rambow and his wife," said the old man, and then he began to tell her all that had happened in a weak, broken voice; but when he got to the part when Mrs. von Rambow had also deserted him, had turned her back upon him, and had let him be ordered out of the room as a thief and a cheat, his anger broke out again; he sprang to his feet and began to pace the room with flashing eyes and clenched fists, as though he wanted to fight against the world. "Oh," he cried, "that is not all. They have hit me harder than they knew. They have wrecked my child's life as well as mine. There, read that, Mrs. Behrens," and he gave her Frank's letter.--She read it, the paper trembling in her hands from nervous excitement, and while she read it, he stood before her, his eyes fixed on her face the better to read her thoughts. "Hawermann," she said, taking his hand, when she had finished, "don't you see the finger of God in this. One cousin has sinned against you, and the other makes it right."--"No, Mrs. Behrens," he replied sternly, "I should be the scoundrel the world will call me from henceforth, if I were to let a good and trustful man take a wife with a stained name into his house. Poor and honest, let me be that; but dishonourable, never."--"Oh me!" cried Mrs. Behrens, "why isn't my pastor here? If my pastor were only here, he could have told us what to do."--"Indeed he could," said Hawermann sadly. "I _cannot_ do it," he exclaimed, "Louisa must decide for herself, and you must help her. You have been able to teach her to distinguish right from wrong as I never