"Oh, yes, Herr Geheimrath. It would look too ugly, and the child will be in no kind of danger. He always liked Ernestine, and stood up for her; and he will be afraid, too, not to fill his post of guardian conscientiously, for he will be under the supervision of the orphans' court." "Then make her minority as short as possible. For my satisfaction, have it expressly stated that she shall be of age at eighteen. Such precaution is necessary with men of Gleissert's stamp. According to our laws, a father can declare his child of age at eighteen. Her property can remain in the orphans' court until then, when it can be placed at her own disposal." "Yes, yes, I agree to all that,--then it is all settled! God be thanked!" Hartwich drew a long sigh of relief, and dipped the pen in the ink. But scarcely had he attempted the first stroke when he dropped the pen in despair and cried out, "Merciful Heaven! I cannot form a letter!" The startled Geheimrath looked at the paper. The letters were entirely illegible. For one moment the old gentleman lost all hope,--while Hartwich sobbed and groaned like a child. Was he to fail thus, just when the goal was reached? The Geheimrath regarded the invalid thoughtfully, pondering how long a delay his condition would permit. Then he made up his mind, and said with composure, "I will arrange it all; do not be at all anxious. I will drive to the nearest town and procure the services of a couple of lawyers, and you shall dictate your will. I will be back again in two hours. Tell me when Leuthold is used to be away from home, that he may know nothing of our plans." "At the time of your return he will be at the factory. If you go on foot as far as the corner of the wood, he will not see you. Herr Geheimrath, you are a true man,--my child's benefactor and mine. How shall I ever thank you?" "There is no need of thanks,--no need at all! I am only doing my duty as a man and a Christian." And the prudent old physician concealed the writing-materials and hurried out. Hartwich cast his blood-shot eyes upward and prayed, "Let me live until it is complete, O God,--only until then!" These words he repeated again and again, while his heart beat more wildly and irregularly, and his veins grew blue and swollen. It was the mortal agony of a doomed wretch who feels that a short time will bring him to the bar of an inexorable judge, and who longs to throw off at least a part of his burden of guilt. Of course such anguish would hasten his death.