The baroness's whole life was given up to this great question, and she had naturally a sharp eye for all that was going on upon the market. Her husband's death, which she was expecting as a certainty, was likely to change her position entirely, but on the whole she was not displeased with the prospect. It is true, her savings from the revenues of the entailed estates, which had so far benefitted herself and Helen, and which, after the baron's death, had to be carried to the principal till Malte came of age, would be lost; but the sum total of these savings amounted already to nearly a hundred thousand dollars, all invested in first-class securities--a sum small enough, in comparison with the whole estate, but quite sufficient if the two farms belonging to Harald's bequest were added. She had apparently arranged everything to her satisfaction, and if Grenwitz should really die now, why ... At that moment a letter was brought in. "From Felix!" she said, in a low voice, and casting a glance at the direction; and then she stepped to the window to read the letter. It was a short note, evidently written with pain by the trembling hand of a sick man, and ran thus: "Dear Aunt: I have been in such a wretched state for some days, that when this letter reaches you I may possibly have ceased to exist, if this way of living, amid pain and misery, which is fast coming to an end, can be called an existence. But whatever may come, it is high time for me to enlighten you on the subject of the * * * affair. * * * has not been satisfied, as I told you. He has a right to demand four hundred dollars a month till the claim to Uncle Harald's legacy expires by prescription, and besides six hundred dollars, if he keeps silent until then. You will do better to pay the fellow, if you do not wish him to get you into no end of trouble. I sent him his four hundred for the month of November before I left Greenwood. I am exhausted. "Yours faithfully, Felix. "P.S.--If you love me, I pray you will let my rascally creditors wait a little longer. Moses Hirsch has a note of mine for one thousand dollars. Offer him two hundred for it; he will still make fifty per cent." The baroness came back from the window, went to the fire-place, laid the note carefully on the burning coal and waited till the flames had seized and consumed it. Then she walked slowly up and down in the room, which began to grow dark. This twilight was most favorable for a face which was downright disfigured by anger. She murmured curses against Felix, against Albert, against Oswald, through her teeth. "Not a farthing the scamp shall have! Not a red cent! I'll send for him and tell him so to his face; and, besides, I'll warn him not to say a word ... What is it?" she interrupted her monologue, as the servant once more entered the room. "Mr. Timm desires to wait upon you on business."