“Therefore I should never succeed in coming so near heaven as you, the lonely, devout pilgrim, attained on the summit of your mountain peak, unless he accompanied me in spirit, unless his soul joined mine in the ascent or the flight.  It rests in mine as mine rests in his, and were they separated both would bleed as if from severed veins.  For this reason, aunt, he can never blend into a uniform mass with the rest of the world below me; for if I gained the radiant height, he would remain at my side and gaze with me at the mist-veiled world beneath.  He can never vanish from the eyes of my soul, and so, dear aunt, because I owe it to him to avoid even the semblance——­”

Here she hesitated; for from the adjoining room they heard a man’s deep voice telling Els something in loud, excited tones.

This interruption was welcome to the abbess; she had as yet found no answer to her niece’s startling objection.

Eva answered her questioning glance with the exclamation, “Uncle Pfinzing!”

“He?” replied the abbess dejectedly.  “His opinion has some weight with you, and this very day, during the burial, he told me how glad he should be to see you sheltered in the convent from the hateful calumnies caused by your imprudence!”

“Yet—­you will see it directly,” the girl declared, “he will surely understand me when I explain that I would rather endure the worst than appear to seek refuge from evil tongues in flight.  Whoever has expected Eva Ortlieb to shelter herself from malice behind strong walls will be mistaken.  Heinz is certainly aware of the shameful injustice which has pursued us, and if he returns he must find me where he left me.  I am now encountering what my dead mother called the forge fire of life, and I will not shun it like a coward.  Heinz, I know, will overthrow the man who unchained this generation of vipers against us; but if he does not return, or can bring himself to cast the love that unites us behind him with the world from which he would fain turn, then, aunt”—­and Eva’s eyes flashed brightly with passionate fire, and her clear voice expressed the firm decision of a vigorous will—­“then I will commit our cause to One who will not suffer falsehood to conquer truth or wrong to triumph over right.  Then, though it should be necessary to walk over red-hot ploughshares, let the ordeal bear witness for us.”

The abbess, startled, yet rejoicing at the fulness of faith flaming in her darling’s passionate speech, approached Eva to soothe her; but scarcely had she begun to speak when the door opened and Berthold Pfinzing entered with his older niece.

He was holding Els by the hand, and it was evident that some sorrowful thought occupied the minds of both.

“Has any new horror happened?” fell in tones of anxious enquiry from Eva’s lips before she even greeted her dearest relative.

“Think of something very bad,” was her sister’s reply, in a tone so dejected and mournful, that Eva, with a low cry—­“My father!”—­pressed her hand upon her heart.