"If Ernestine recovers, as she may do under old Heim's care, she will be too weak for months to be sent among strangers without incurring the reproach of the world. You will be obliged, therefore, to submit to having her with us until such time as we can be rid of her decently. I assure you she shall stay no longer than is absolutely necessary. And now pray be quiet, and do not embitter this day by complaints." Frau Bertha looked utterly discomfited. She determined that, at all events, Ernestine should never partake of the delicacies which she alone knew how to prepare. Coarse natures always seek for a scape-goat upon whom to wreak their irritation; and, as she did not dare to make her husband serve this purpose, her choice fell upon Ernestine. Leuthold, who was not used to see his wife lost in a reverie, softly touched her shoulder. "Come; it really looks almost as if you were thinking of something," he said dryly. "Yes; I am thinking of something," she replied significantly. "I am thinking of the dog's life I shall lead as long as that sickly, ailing brat is under our roof, and no one will reward me for my pains." She stopped, for Gretchen had grown restless, and required all her attention, and Leuthold evidently refused to give any heed to her complaints, but, as dinner was over, folded his napkin and rose from the table. "I must write the notice of his death--it is high time it were attended to," he said, while he washed his hands in the adjoining room. "Sew a piece of crape around my hat." He re-entered the room, and sat down at his writing-table. Bertha placed a candle and a cup of _café noir_ upon it. He lighted a cigar, which he smoked as he wrote, sipping his coffee comfortably from time to time. The servant removed the dinner-table; Gretchen amused herself on the floor with some paper, which she tore into a thousand fragments, to make a mimic snow-storm; and Bertha tried on before the mirror several articles of mourning-apparel, which she had had in readiness for some time. She was delighted, for black was very becoming to her. Peace and comfort reigned in the apartment. Leuthold emptied his cup and laid aside his pen. "There--that is most touching and suitable. Read it." He handed Bertha what he had, written, and she read: "It has pleased Almighty God to release our beloved father, brother, and brother-in-law, Herr Carl Emil von Hartwich, landholder and manufacturer, from his protracted sufferings, and to transport him to a better world. He died this day, at twelve M. Those who were acquainted with the deceased, and with his active benevolence, will know how profound must be our sorrow, and accord us their sympathy. "The Sad Survivors. "Unkenbeim, 24 July, 18--." CHAPTER V. UNDECEIVED.