A deep flush crimsoned Cecilia's face, and she hastily tried to put Gretchen down, but the child would not give up the point so easily. She threw her right arm around her mother's neck, and said, coaxingly, "Can't he, mamma; he has such pretty blue eyes, and is always kind to you, and papa is often so horrid; can't he, mamma?" Cecilia hastily rose with the child in her arms, and took a few paces forward, as if she wished to fly from the place. But her knees trembled, she could go no farther, and was obliged to put Gretchen down, who, alarmed by her mother's impetuosity, ran away crying, but the next moment forgot her grief at the sight of some bright-hued butterflies which fluttered before her over the flower-beds. Cecilia still stood motionless with her face averted. "Cecilia!" said Gotthold. He had approached her, and tried to take the hand that hung by her side. She turned, and the face of Medusa confronted him. "Cecilia!" exclaimed Gotthold, again extending his hands. She did not draw back, she did not stir; the rigid features were motionless, except for the quivering of the half-parted lips, and then the words came slowly, like the last drops of blood from a mortal wound. "I do not need your sympathy, do you hear? I have given you no right to pity me, neither you nor any one else. Why do you torture me?" "I shall not torture you long, Cecilia; I have told you I am going." "Why don't you go then? Why do you speak to me of such things? To me? You will drive me mad, and--I won't go mad." "This is madness, Cecilia," cried Gotthold passionately. "If you do not love him--and you do not, you cannot--no divine, and certainly no human law, compels you to remain, to pine, to die in nameless misery. And he loves you no better than you do him." "Did he tell you so?" "Is it necessary?" "On your honor, Gotthold, did he tell you so?" "No, but--" "And suppose he did love me, for all that, and--I loved him? How can you dare speak to me as you have spoken? How can you dare give me the lie by your silence, humiliate me so deeply in my own eyes! Is this your boasted friendship?" Gotthold bent his head and turned away. Gretchen came to meet him. "Where are you going, Uncle Gotthold?" He raised the child in his arms, kissed her, put her on the ground, and went on. "Why is Uncle Gotthold crying, mamma?" asked Gretchen, pulling her mother's dress. "Papa can't cry, can he, mamma?" Cecilia made no reply; her wide tearless eyes were fixed on the spot where Gotthold had disappeared between the beeches. "Forever," she murmured, "forever!" CHAPTER XII.