"I have to go out early to the manor farm. At mid-day I shall return, and then forthwith shall undertake the dreaded visit to my parents. My mother suspects nothing as yet. Her plans have once again been frustrated, and Olga will have to suffer heavily enough for it. I fear she may even turn her out of the house. If only I had her already under my own roof! "It is three o'clock in the morning. Enough for to-day. Your grateful and happy "Robert Hellinger." The old doctor wiped a tear from his cheek. "The dear boy," he murmured. "How his emotions crowd each other in his over-heated brain; and how simple, how honest everything is to the last jot! In truth, he deserves you, my brave, proud girl; he is the only one to whom I do not grudge you. And now I will put you to the test, and see if you too put confidence in your old uncle. Straightway I will do it." Laughing and growling he burrowed with his head in the pillows. And then he suddenly shouted with a voice resounding through the house like thunder: "Confound it, where are my trousers?" The trousers were brought, and five minutes later the old man stood quite ready before his glass, all except his greyish-yellow wig. "My hat, cloak, stick!" he shouted out into the corridor. "But the breakfast," the old woman shouted back, if possible louder still, from the kitchen. "Well, then, hurry up," he blustered. "Before I have read these letters I must have it here." With an impatient oath he set to work upon the little heap that had so far been lying unnoticed on the pedestal. Offers of wine--profitable investments--a poor, blind father with a new-born infant--and then suddenly he stopped short, while once more a satisfied smile overspread his features. "Upon my word! I should not have expected this," he growled, contentedly. "She, too, could not rest without confiding her happiness to her old uncle. That is nice of you, children! You shall have your reward for this." With the same happy haste with which he had opened Hellinger's letter, he tore this envelope asunder. But hardly had he commenced reading when with a low moaning cry he staggered back two paces, like one who has been dealt a treacherous blow. His grey face became ashy pale; his eyes started from their sockets, and like claws his old withered fingers clutched the fluttering paper. When his housekeeper brought in the coffee, she found her master sitting as stiff as a log in the corner of the sofa, his forehead covered with great drops of perspiration, and staring with fixed lustreless eyes at the paper which his hands still held as if in a cramp. "Gracious heavens, doctor!" she cried, and let the tray drop clattering on to the table. Her lamentations brought him back to consciousness. He asked for water, and drank two long eager draughts, wetted his forehead and temples with the remainder, and signed to his housekeeper to leave him.