They rode over the bridge, and an ivy-covered villa came to view through the foliage. Proceeding up the gravel path to the veranda, they alighted and gave their horses to the stable-boy. Through the long windows that opened on the veranda could be seen a lamp and people gathered about it. A young woman sat with a sleeping child in her lap; an older lady, with a face of marble pallor, sat before an open Bible; and a young man held a little boy on his knee and drew pictures for him on a slate. A big Newfoundland dog suddenly rose from the corner where he was sleeping, and, with a half-suppressed bark of eager expectation, came bounding to the door. "Where am I?" stammered Ödön in great agitation. "At home." CHAPTER XXVII. THE MYSTERIOUS LETTER. Ödön could not persuade himself that Boksa had done him a kindness in bringing him home. It was a time of torturing suspense for all the family. The Austrian general had been duly informed where Ödön Baradlay could be found, and a summons from him was daily expected. Poor Aranka could not hear a door open, or the sound of a strange step, without starting and turning pale. Every day, when the mail came, they all ran to look over the letters and make sure that the dreaded call to Ödön was not among them. One day a suspicious-looking letter came to view addressed in German to "Herr Eugen von Baradlay." _Eugen_--why, that was German for _Jenő_. He opened the letter, read it, and put it in his pocket. All the family were present, and his mother asked him from whom his letter came, and what news it brought. But Jenő only answered, "I must go on a journey." "Whither and for what purpose?" asked the baroness. "I can't sit idle here any longer," he replied. "One of my brothers has vanished from our sight, and the other daily expects to be taken prisoner. Such a life is more than I can bear any longer. It is my turn now to try what I can do." "But what can you do?" asked his mother. "That is my secret." "But I have a right to share it. No member of my family shall adopt a course which affects us all, which I have not first approved." "You will learn all in due time." "But what if I then refuse to give my sanction?" "Your refusal will be too late to be of any avail." "Then I forbid you to go on." "I cannot obey you. I am no longer a child, but am responsible to myself alone for my actions." "But," interposed Ödön, "you are still a son and a brother." "As you shall soon see," answered Jenő, with significant emphasis. The baroness took her youngest son by the hand. "You have some plan for saving our family," said she. "I can read your soul; you are an open book to me. I have studied you from your infancy. You think now to rescue us by leaving us and resuming your old connections, thus exerting an influence in our favour upon our enemies. I see that you are planning to return to the Plankenhorsts." Jenő smiled sadly. "Do you read that in my heart?" he asked.