About the middle of February her aunt made her last attack on poor Linda. For days before something had been said daily; some word had been spoken in which Madame Staubach alluded to the match as an affair which would certainly be brought about sooner or later. And there were prayers daily for the softening of Linda's heart. And it was understood that every one in the house was supposed to be living under some special cloud of God's anger till Linda's consent should have been given. Madame Staubach had declared during the ecstasy of her devotion, that not only she herself, but even Tetchen also, would become the prey of Satan if Linda did not relent. Linda had almost acknowledged to herself that she was in the act of bringing eternal destruction on all those around her by her obstinacy. Oh, if she could only herself be dead, let the eternal consequences as they regarded herself alone be what they might! "Linda," said her aunt, "is it not time at length that you should give us an answer?" "An answer, aunt Charlotte?" As if she had not given a sufficiency of answers. "Do you not see how others suffer because of your obstinacy?" "It is not my doing." "It is your doing. Do not allow any such thought as that to get into your mind, and assist the Devil in closing the door of your heart. They who are your friends are bound to you, and cannot separate themselves from you." "Who are my friends?" "I am sorry you should ask that question, Linda." "I have no friends." "Linda, that is ungrateful to God, and thankless. I say nothing of myself." "You are my friend, but no one else." "Herr Molk is your friend, and has shown himself to be so. Jacob Heisse is your friend." He, too, using such wisdom as he possessed, had recommended Linda to take the husband provided for her. "Peter Steinmarc is your friend." "No, he is not," said Linda. "That is very wicked,--heinously wicked." Whereupon Madame Staubach went towards the door for the purpose of bolting it, and Linda knew that this was preparatory to a prayer. Linda felt that it was impossible that she should fall on her knees and attempt to pray at this moment. What was the use of it? Sooner or later she must yield. She had no weapon with which to carry on the battle, whereas her aunt was always armed. "Aunt Charlotte," she said, suddenly, "I will do what you want,--only not now; not quite yet. Let there be time for me to make myself ready for it."