"Why have you avoided me? Why have you made the poor innocent child a pretext for shunning Uhlenfelde? I used to think you had more courage, Leo." This gave affairs an unexpected turn. "I did not think further intercourse between us was possible, Lizzie," he said, "for both our sakes, as well as for your husband's and the world's. For what would the world say if it saw us interchanging courtesies again?" "How calmly you ask the question," she answered, looking in front of her with her sweet smile. "I have to think of you in this matter, as well as of myself," he replied. "And certainly I gathered from what Ulrich said that you shuddered at the thought of a meeting. Above all, it was your wish that my harmless meetings with him should cease." "What else could I do," she said, "after you had expressed yourself so harshly about the child?" "Harshly? Felicitas, take care what you say. I have considered the child's good. I would not have him taught to love me, and then learn to hate me--and you too." "And yet you intended to take him with us to America?" she answered obstinately. "That would have been quite a different thing, Lizzie. There no one would have known who I was. I should have passed as his father. But here, where every servant-girl--but, my God! why do I waste words? You yourself must have thought of it long ago. Otherwise you wouldn't have sent him so far away." "The child is gone," she said in a low tone. "Every night I pray and weep for him; but he is out of your way." He gave a start of horror. "Then _that is why_, Felicitas," he stammered, "that is why you sent him?" "If you wish to rebuke me for being a bad mother," she said, "do it.... I won't defend myself." She folded her hands in her lap, and looked into the distance with appealing helplessness. "Ah, it cost me a severe struggle," she continued, as if talking to herself. "Every night my poor boy appeared to me in my dreams, and I became icy cold when I saw how pale and wretched he looked. But, I told myself, he is young; he will fight it through, live and be happy; but I ... well, you see, Leo, that this is my last battle; I know it. The torture of having to keep silence can't be borne much longer, remorse chokes me. Had I kept the child, I must have given up you, the only person who can help and advise me, and give me any comfort. What could I have done, then, but have thrown myself in the river. For they say in death it is easy to be silent." Emotion and suspicion fought within him for the mastery. If she was capable of making such a tremendous sacrifice for him, it was nothing more nor less than saying, "I love you.... I love you still."