Ernestine sat pale and mute, her hands folded in her lap; she could not stir. The Staatsräthin continued, greatly irritated: "But I did it; I conquered myself, and tried to forget your skepticism, your unwomanliness, your reputation. I hoped--hoped for my son's sake--that you would change, and I would gladly have been a help to you. But you repulse my first approach in a manner that makes me tremble at the thought that my Johannes has given his loving heart to such a hardened nature,--that he should have by his fireside a woman who despises a wife's duties, and who will be the ruin of himself and his home." Ernestine sprang up. She gasped for breath, and her words broke forth from her with painful effort. "Frau Staatsräthin, I can assure you there has never been a word or hint at any nearer relation between your son and myself. I never would have crossed your threshold had I known how I was slandered. I promise you, you shall have no cause for alarm. I shall never disgrace you by forcing you to receive me as your son's wife. If he should ever offer me his hand, I should refuse it. As I do not pretend to believe in a God, I cannot offer to appeal to him, but I swear to you by my honour, which is dearer to me than life----" "Stop, stop!" the Staatsräthin interrupted her in mortal terror. "Oh, my Johannes, what am I doing! Ernestine, do not make matters worse than they are. Do not drive them to extremities. I want you to reject, not my son, but your own faults and errors. Promise me to give up these, and you shall be the beloved daughter of my heart!" "I cannot promise you that. I do not wish to do so. Do you think I would beg and fawn for the doubtful happiness of reigning at a fireside where every occasion would be improved to remind me of the sacrifice that was made in enduring me?--where the only commendation that I could earn would be for the skilful management of sauce-pans and dish-cloths, and where a badly-cooked dinner would brand me as a useless member of society? No, you know less of me than I thought, if you imagine that the chasm that you have opened between us can ever be bridged over. Spare me the humiliation of further explanations. I thank you for your hospitality. I leave you, as I did years ago, when I stood trembling and wet through before you, and you had nothing for me but cold words of reproof, that made me feel myself a little culprit, although I was as unconscious of wrong as I am to-day. Then I would sooner have died than have returned to you, although your son, blessings upon him! would have treated me like a sister. Ten years afterwards he has brought me again to you and overcome my old childish timidity; but the first moment that I stepped across your threshold and encountered your cold greeting, I knew that there was no home for me here!" She covered her face with her hands, and leaned exhausted against the door through which she was about to leave the room.