"Nor should I, to be sure, have done so," replied Otto; "however fond one may be of a man, and however indebted to him, one's only child is of course one's only child; and just now, above all, to have to give her up, to live in the big house alone with--but I cannot give up the thought that now, after all, nothing is to come of it, after they, Lydia and my wife, have tried to prove to me in writing--in black and white, don't you know--that you loved each other, and that at least Erna ..." "I hardly know what you are talking about," Bertram impatiently interrupted his friend; "and what do you mean by 'in black and white'?" "A stupid story," Otto made answer, embarrassed, "in which those women have got me involved, and which; yesterday, I did not wish to refer to, as I was desirous of sparing Hildegard. But now let the whole thing come out; it may as well. Listen, then!" So he told him of the letter which Erna had written to Agatha, and which Lydia had purloined for a few hours. Hildegard had read the letter to him, and his excellent memory enabled him to reproduce it now, if not literally, at least in its general bearings. He also had remembered well the passage referring to some _liaison_ which Erna would seem to have had, and to which the ladies had not attributed any special significance. "Now," he concluded his report, "you see why my wife, who was so bent upon having Lotter for a son-in-law, was so annoyed with you during the last few days; nor do I know what would have come of it all, if the Princess had not yesterday brought, her round to reason: how she managed it is a riddle to me, but it is a fact, there, is an end of Lotter, for good and all. This morning Hildegard went the length of saying that it had been I who had favoured Lotter, and--for I may as well tell you all now--you suddenly appeared to her not only as an acceptable husband for Erna, but rather she saw in your union the only possibility--if my carelessness had really wrought our ruin--to save Erna at least, and to preserve for her such a position in society as she was born for. Well, old man, it's off my mind at last, and for all that, and, all that, it would be the grandest day in my whole life if you were able to say to me: 'Well, better late than never!'" "It is too late!" Bertram replied. He had ejaculated those words, in intensest excitement, bounding from his chair as he did so, and now he was, with uneven step, pacing up and down beneath the chestnut-trees. But presently he returned to Otto, who, frightened, had not stirred from his seat, and said in his usual calm tone--