During the days that followed, he was unable to leave his room; and the doctor thought it right to warn Hermann that all the symptoms seemed to point to a fatal issue.

On the 8th of January a servant from the hotel in the little neighboring town brought a letter, which, he said, required an immediate answer.  The sick man was then lying almost unconscious.  Hermann broke the seal without hesitation, and read as follows: 

“My dear friend,—­A visit to Europe which my father had long planned has at last been undertaken.  I did not mention it to you, in order to have the pleasure of surprising you.  On reaching this place, I learn that the illness of which you spoke in your last letter has not yet left you.  Under these circumstances, I will not venture to present myself without warning you of my arrival, and making sure that you are able to receive me.  I am here with my brother, who, like myself, would not come so near to you without seeing you.  My father has gone on to Paris, where Francis and I will join him in a few days.  Ellen.”

Hermann, after one instant’s thought, took up his hat and dismissed the messenger, saying he would give the answer himself.  At the hotel he sent in his card, with the words, “From Mr. Warren,” and was immediately ushered into Ellen’s presence.

She was alone.  Hermann examined her rapidly.  He saw an extremely beautiful woman, whose frank and fearless eyes were fixed on him with a questioning look.

Hermann had not frequented the society of women much, and was usually rather embarrassed in their presence.  But on this occasion he thought only of his friend, and found no difficulty in explaining the motive of his visit.  He told her his friend was ill—­very ill—­ dying—­and that he had opened the letter addressed to Warren.  Ellen did not answer for some time; she seemed not to have understood what she had heard.  After a while her eyes filled with tears, and she asked whether she could see Mr. Warren.  On Hermann answering in the affirmative, she further inquired whether her brother might accompany her.

“Two visitors might fatigue the invalid too much,” said Hermann; “your brother may come later.”

“Are you not afraid that my visit may tire him?”

“I do not think so; it will make him very happy.”

Ellen only took a few minutes to put on her hat and cloak, and they started.  The short journey was accomplished in silence.  When they reached the house, Hermann went in first to see how the dying man was.  He was lying in his bed, in the delirium of fever, muttering incoherent sentences.  Nevertheless he recognized Hermann, and asked for something to drink.  After having allayed his thirst, he closed his eyes, as if to sleep.

“I have brought you a friend,” said Hermann; “will you see him?”

“Hermann?  He is always welcome.”

“No; it is a friend from America.”