Old Trude hurried out just as they drove up to the door. The steward and two servants in livery rushed down the steps to assist them to alight, and Trude also to greet her favorite, who was now so pale, grave, and chilling in her appearance. The large eyes of the lady rested with cold indifference upon the old woman, whose eyes were turned to her with the tenderest expression. “I thank you,” she said, coldly. “Husband! I beg you to give me your arm.” Proudly she passed the statuary, and over the soft carpets without comment, or even a word for old Trude. The steward and housekeeper followed the silent couple. “Shall I take you to your room first?” asked Ebenstreit, “or will you do me the pleasure to look at the newly-arranged drawing-rooms?” “Certainly,” she replied, with indifference. “We will first look at the drawing-rooms, as we shall probably receive much company this winter, and they are of the first importance. You know that I dislike solitude.” “Indeed, I recall that we are very seldom alone!” sighed her husband. “It would be fearful if we were,” replied his wife, with marked indifference. The steward just now opened the little door of the ante-room, sparkling with chandeliers and mirrors. “Ah! this is really beautiful, and well chosen,” cried Ebenstreit, looking about with an air of great pride and satisfaction. “Tell me, Marie, is it not worthy of you?” Glancing coldly around, she replied: “It does not please at all. The furniture is very costly, and reminds one of the parvenu. Every thing recalls the riches of the newly-titled banker.” Her husband’s brow contracted, but he did not trust himself to contest his dissatisfaction with his cold, proud wife, but sought another vent for it. “You are very unkind, Marie. Have the goodness to tell me how you, with these severe ideas, can suffer that Trude for a moment should appear before us in this poor-looking dress which, indeed, does not recall any wealth!” Frau von Ebenstreit’s eyes glanced quickly over the old who, she said, was the only object which did not bespeak the gaudiness of newly-acquired wealth, but she appeared as the respectable servant of an old and noble family in fitting dress. “Remain as you are, Trude, and do not let yourself be misled by our follies! I--but what is that I see?” she cried as the steward opened the next door at the silent nod of her husband. “Oh, my beloved children, there you are at last; after three years’ absence I have the happiness to embrace you, my only daughter,” cried Frau von Werrig, as she approached them with outstretched arms and an affectionate smile, essaying to throw her arms around Marie’s neck, who waved her back. “My child, my child,” whimpered the mother, “is it possible that my daughter can receive me thus after so long a separation?”