Els summoned up her courage and asked:  “And we—­are we nothing to you, father?”

Surprised by this rebuke, he started, removed his wet handkerchief from his eyes, and answered:  “Yes, yes—­but the old do not reckon Ay, much is left to me.  But he who is robbed of his best possession easily forgets the good things remaining, and good you both are.”

He kissed his daughter lovingly as he spoke, as if wishing to retract the words which had wounded her; then gazing at the still face of the dead, he said:  “Before you dress her, leave her alone with me for a time——­ There is a wild turmoil here and here”—­he pointed to his breast and brow—­“and yet The last hours——­There is so much to settle and consider in a future without her With her, with her dear calm features before my eyes——­”

Here a fresh outburst of grief stifled his voice; but Els pointed to the image of the Virgin on the wall and beckoned to her sister.

Wholly engrossed by her own sorrow, Eva had scarcely heeded her father’s words, and now impetuously refused to leave her mother.  Herr Ernst, pleased by this immoderate grief for the one dearest to him, permitted her to remain, and asked Els to attend to the outside affairs which a death always brought with it.

Els accepted the new duty as a matter of course and went to the door; but at the threshold she turned back, rushed to the deathbed, kissed the pure brow and closed eyelids of the sleeper, and then knelt beside her in silent prayer.  When she rose she clasped Eva, who had knelt and risen with her, in a close embrace, and whispered:  “Whatever happens, you may rely on me.”

Then she consulted her father concerning certain arrangements which must be made, and also asked him what she should say to the maid’s lover, who had come to beseech his forgiveness.

“Tell him to leave me in peace!” cried Herr Ernst vehemently.  Els tried to intercede for the servant, but her father pressed both hands over his ears, exclaiming:  “Who can reach a decision when he is out of his senses himself?  Let the man come to-morrow, or the day after.  Whoever may call, I will see no one, and don’t wish to know who is here.”

But the peace and solitude for which he longed seemed denied him.  A few hours after he left the chamber of death he was obliged to go to the Town Hall on business which could not be deferred; and when, shortly before sunset, he returned home and locked himself into his own room, old Eysvogel again appeared.

He looked pale and agitated, and ordered the manservant—­who denied him admittance as he had been directed—­to call Jungfrau Els.  His voice trembled as he entreated her to persuade her father to see him again.  The matter in question was the final decision of the fate of his ancient house, of Wolff, and also her own and her marriage with his son.  Perhaps the death of his beloved wife might render her father’s mood more gentle.  He did not yet know all Now he must learn it.  If he again said “No,” it would seal the ruin of the Eysvogel firm.