Brandow threw the bridle over his arm and Gotthold took a portion of his luggage, so they walked quickly through the woods by a cross path, which soon brought them out into the fields. At a short distance, only separated from them by a few meadows and a broad field of rye, stood the manor-house, already partly in the shadow which the hill on the left-hand side of the moor cast far into the valley, while the tops of the taller trees in the garden and the crests of the huge poplars, which enclosed the grounds on the three other sides, still glowed in the light of the setting sun. The little window of the gable-room glittered and flashed back his rays. Gotthold could scarcely turn his eyes away; he fancied every moment that it must open and Cecilia appear and wave her white hand towards him with a gesture of warning: no nearer, for God's sake, no nearer! And then it seemed to him as if he were once more back in the old days, when he used to come out with Curt to spend a precious Saturday afternoon and delightful Sunday, and in their impatience to reach their goal they ran the last part of the way at full speed. At every step his agitation increased; he scarcely heard what his companion was saying to him. But Carl Brandow was only talking in order to conceal from his guest the anxiety that oppressed him. Would it not have been better to have told her of his design, even at the risk of her opposition, or, still worse, of affording her pleasure? Ought he not at least to have taken advantage of the last opportunity, and prepared her for the visit by Hinrich Scheel, instead of expressly commanding him to be silent? Or would the clever fellow once more, as he had often done, follow his own counsel and guide an ill-managed affair into the right course? And yet, what could happen if he suddenly appeared before her with him? Would she give him the lie in the presence of her guest, say she had known nothing about his visit, and her husband had told an untruth? It was certainly possible; but woe be unto her if she did so. "Here we are," said Carl Brandow, as they reached the old linden before the door. "Welcome to Dollan! Welcome!" He had spoken in a very loud tone, standing in the open doorway, and now shouted, raising his clear voice to its highest pitch, "Hinrich, Fritz!--where are they all?" But there was no movement within the house, and no one appeared in the courtyard. "It is always just so on Sundays," said Brandow, "Everybody runs wild, especially if the master is away from home. Rike! Hinrich! Fritz!"