“You were seeking me?  Me, Ada?” His voice trembled with emotion as he asked the question.  “How did you learn that I was at the forestry?”

“Through Prince Adelsberg, who was with me to-day.  You received a letter from him this morning?”

“No, only some intelligence,” responded Hartmut, with drawn lips.  “The few short lines contained no word directed personally to me, only business, only a communication which the prince thought necessary to make—­I understood it!”

Adelheid was silent; she had felt sure that those few lines would be as death to him.  Slowly she stepped toward him in the shadow of a great tree, the wind blew so fiercely that it was a necessity to have such protection as the trees could afford; Hartmut did not seem to notice its increasing fury.

“I see that you know what those few lines contained,” he began again, “but it was not new to you.  You heard it all at Rodeck.  Ada, when I saw you standing in the shimmering, ghostly light on that frightful night, and knew that you had seen me trampled in the dust—­even my own father, who loathes me, would have been satisfied with my punishment.”

“You do him injustice,” said Frau von Wallmoden, earnestly.  “You saw him only when he was thrusting you from him with such iron relentlessness.  I saw him afterwards when you had disappeared.  He broke into the wildest anguish and I caught a glimpse of the father’s heart which loved his son above all else on earth.  Have you made no effort since then to convince him?”

“No, he would believe me as little as did Egon.  He who has once broken his word destroys all belief in himself, no matter though he afterwards give his life in defense of truth.  Had I met my death upon the battle-field, perhaps his eyes and Egon’s would have been opened.  Now when I fall by my own hand, the few who know my life will say, ’it was his guilt which drove him to despair, and forced him to commit the deed.’”

“No,” said Adelheid softly, “one would not say it.  I believe in you Hartmut, despite everything.”

He looked at her, and through the gray hopelessness of despair a gleam of the old light shone forth.

“You, Ada?  And you tell me this on the very spot where you condemned me?  At that time, too, you knew nothing—­”

“That was why I had a horror of the man to whom nothing was holy, who knew no law but his own passions; but when I saw you pleading at your father’s feet, I felt fate rather than guilt had led you astray.  Since then I have known that you could not throw aside that unfortunate heritage of your mother.  Rouse yourself, Hartmut!  The way which I showed you then is yet open.  Whether it leads to life or death—­it leads onward and upward.”

Hartmut shook his head darkly!

“No, that has all gone by now.  You do not know what my father did for me with his frightful words, what my life has been since then; but I will be silent, no one would understand.  I thank you for your belief in me, Ada.  My death will be easier.”