"He will do just what I tell him!" Frau von Arnim retorted, with a touch of half-laughing authority, which threw a sidelight on her conscious power over her entourage. "He will let me humbug him because there will be nothing else for him to do. I shall say that we have come to Berlin to be near them—which is true; that we prefer the quiet quarters—which is partly true; that we are doing our best to spend our money, but that, do what we will, there is always a trouble—some 1,000 marks over, which won’t be got rid of—which is not true at all. I shall offer it him as an indirect present to Nora, and Nora will secretly spend it on his dinners, and both will be all the happier; you need not be afraid." Hildegarde’s eyes flashed with amusement. She loved her mother in her triumphant, self-confident moods. "I do not think I was afraid—really," she said. "I know by experience that you can twist most people round your finger. And Wolff is no exception." She smiled to herself, and there was something wistful in her expression which Frau von Arnim was quick to perceive. She bent lower as though she wished to catch and interpret every shadow that crossed her daughter’s face. "And you will be glad to see them again, Hildegarde? You are strong enough? It will not make you unhappy?" Hildegarde shook her head. "It is true when I say that I am longing to see them," she said firmly. "I am happier—far happier now than in the time when I knew that, crippled though I was, Wolff would have married me, that I had only to stretch out my hand, as it were, for him to take it. It was so hard _not_ to stretch out my hand; I had to crush down my love for him, and throw scorn on myself for daring to love at all. Every day I was afraid that I might betray myself. Now it is different. I can love him openly and honestly as my brother, and Nora I can love too without bitterness or envy as the one woman who could make him happy, or who was worthy of him. So you see, dearest, everything is for the best." Frau von Arnim nodded, satisfied by the steady, cheerful voice. "You have your reward," she said. "Rightly enough, Wolff traces all his happiness back to you, and his love and gratitude are in proportion." "To his happiness?" Hildegarde suggested, smiling. "In that case I ought to be more than satisfied. Although, perhaps, for my sake he tries to hide that fact, it is obvious from his letters that he never knew what the real thing was until Nora became his wife. And I believe it will be lasting. We know Nora so well. We know how good and loving and honest she is. I do not think she will ever disappoint him or us." "And Wolff, of course, could not disappoint any one, not even though he were advertised as perfect," Frau von Arnim observed slyly. "So we need feel no alarm for the future. And now I must go back to my accounts."