When her husband arrived in Weimar a few months afterward, this mystery seemed to have sunk deeper in Charlotte and Schiller's hearts; neither of them had the courage to lift the veil and speak the decisive word. Charlotte was paler and quieter than usual, and her eyes were often stained with tears, but she did not complain and made no attempt to bring her husband to an explanation. Only once, when she held her little boy, who had just recovered from an attack of illness, lovingly in her arms, her husband stepped up to her, and gave her a kind, inquiring look: "Could you ever make up your mind to leave this child, Charlotte--to deliver it over to the care of a stranger." "Never, no, never!" cried she, folding her arms tenderly around her delicate little boy. "No, not for all the treasures--for all the happiness earth can offer, could I part with my darling child!" "And yet you would be compelled to do so, if you should lay aside the name your child's father bears," said her husband, gently. He made no explanation of his words, but his wife had well understood him, and also understood his intention when, after a short interval, he smilingly observed that he would now go to see Schiller, and take a walk with his dear friend. When her husband had left the room she looked down at the pale child, who was slumbering in her arms. Tears gushed from her eyes, and she folded her hands over her boy's head: "Give us all peace, Thou who art the Spirit of Eternal Love! Give us wisdom to discern truth and strength, to make any sacrifice in its behalf!"