Part 34 (1/2)

The old lady listened with the most painful and contradictory sensations. Her integrity, her sense of honour, were outraged by the treachery of Otto's and Magelone's conduct towards Johanna, and yet her warm, kindly heart could not forbear pitying Otto in the midst of his complaints and self-reproaches, and her stern loyalty to the Donninghausens impressed upon her the conviction that now, as at all other times, the first consideration was the preservation of the honour of the name. She was quite ready, at Otto's request, to undertake the task of reconciliation, and went up to see Johanna.

The curtains were still closed, but Johanna was no longer lying down.

With hands clasped in front of her, she was restlessly walking to and fro. When the door opened, she turned and came towards it.

”My poor, dear child,” Aunt Thekla began, but paused in dismay, as, even in the dim light, she distinguished the expression of Johanna's countenance. Not a trace was to be seen of weakness or of need of sympathy: the pale face was as if carved in marble. Nothing that the old lady had prepared to say would fit this occasion.

”Are you better?” she asked at last, to put an end to the distressing silence.

”Yes, dear aunt; do not trouble yourself about me,” Johanna replied, with forced composure.

Aunt Thekla sighed. It grieved her that the young girl had so little confidence in her, but it should not deter her. ”Come, sit down by me; I want to talk with you,” she said, taking her seat on the lounge. And when Johanna mechanically obeyed, she added, ”You need put no force upon yourself; Otto has made a frank confession to me.”

”Scarcely frank!” Johanna said, contemptuously.

”You do him injustice!” Aunt Thekla cried. ”He said not one word to excuse himself; on the contrary, he accused himself bitterly. If you could have heard how he repents and longs for your forgiveness, you would grant it him with all your heart.”

”I cannot,” Johanna said, without looking up.

”Oh, do not say that! You not only can, but you must forgive. Do we not pray every day, 'Forgive us our trespa.s.ses as we forgive them that trespa.s.s against us'?”

”I cannot,” Johanna repeated.

For a while both were silent; then Aunt Thekla looked up timidly at her niece and said, ”Do not misunderstand me if I continue to plead for Otto. I sympathize with you; I can understand how his folly has offended you.”

”Offended, do you call it?” Johanna interrupted her. ”He has insulted me, and poisoned my life and my soul!”

”So it seems to you now,” said her aunt. ”But you will learn to regard it differently; you will feel otherwise and judge otherwise. Believe me, my child, Otto is worthy of your forgiveness, and he loves you so----”

Johanna sprang to her feet. ”Aunt, I cannot listen to you!” she cried, pressing her hands to her throbbing temples. ”You forget that a few hours ago I saw with my own eyes that Otto--that Magelone----And you talk of forgiveness, of love! Oh, everything is hateful in my sight!--life--myself----”

She sank into a chair, and, with a groan, covered her eyes with her hand.

Aunt Thekla shed tears, and, after a long pause, went on: ”If you would let me talk to you, I know I could do you good. I do not want to torment you; I only want to repeat Otto's message to you. 'Tell Johanna'--these are his very words; but to appreciate them you should have seen the entreaty in his eyes and heard the tone of his voice--'tell Johanna that I love her more than ever; that I have loved her from the moment when I first knew her----'”

”Oh, aunt!” Johanna broke in upon her words, ”can you tell me that? Can you suppose that can console me? If he had told me that Magelone's charms were irresistible for him, and had extinguished his love for me, I could have understood him, and without reproaching him I should have submitted as to the inevitable. But since he has deceived Magelone and lied to her as he has to me, where shall I look for truth? What can I believe? Where find a stay?”

The old lady had no fitting reply to this. ”I wish you could see matters in another light,” she said, after a long pause for reflection; ”and I hope you will do so in time. But now what is to be done if you refuse Otto's entreaty for forgiveness? Of course my brother must learn nothing of this----”

Johanna looked at her in amazement. ”Learn nothing?” she repeated. ”You do not suppose that I can marry Otto? Magelone has taken my place.”

”Child, I told you that Otto does not love Magelone,” Aunt Thekla replied. ”And she does not love him,--not enough at least to endure for his sake her grandfather's anger.” And, clasping Johanna's hands in her own, the old lady added, with tearful, imploring eyes, ”Think what you are doing. The happiness or misery of the whole family is in your hands.

If you cannot forgive, Johann Leopold will lose his betrothed, Otto's and Magelone's lives will be ruined, whether they marry or not, and my brother, who has made the happiness and honour of his house his sole care, will see it in his old age brought to disgrace----”

”If I could but spare him!” exclaimed Johanna. Here at last was a word spoken in kindness. Aunt Thekla took courage again. ”You can if you choose,” she said, and dried her eyes. ”Believe me, child, those who forgive are blessed indeed when they can forgive and forget.”

”Forgive and forget!” Johanna repeated. ”Yes, it would be a blessing; but forgetfulness cannot be forced, and if I could forgive and overcome in myself all bitterness, the old confidence would not return----”

”Only try it!” Aunt Thekla interrupted her. ”How many women have forgiven some fickleness or unfaithfulness in their lovers and have been happy wives! Remember, 'Love beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.'”

”And 'rejoiceth in the truth,'” Johanna said, her features taking on their former rigidity. ”An error might be forgotten, but what separates Otto and myself forever is his falsehood. If you knew how degraded I feel by it; how petty, suspicious, evil-minded it makes me. To s.h.i.+eld Magelone and himself from his grandfather's anger he betrothed himself to me; for the same reason he seeks a reconciliation with me now; and perhaps--who knows?--the possession of Tannhagen adds weight to the scale. Tell me yourself, Aunt Thekla, can I regard as my lord and master the man of whom I think thus?”