"I followed a shady path which I knew would bring me to the side of the house, but all at once I stopped short. I could not be deceived; that was Susanna's ringing laugh, floating like the note of a nightingale through the shrubbery. Susanna in the garden and Susanna laughing? I walked on and went up on a little knoll surrounded by old lindens; in the middle was a Flora on a stone pedestal; monthly roses were blooming in the flower-beds, mingling their fragrance with that of the mignonette. At one side was a group of pretty garden furniture, and in one of the seats was Susanna, leaning back and looking with a smile of delight at the spray of roses which Stürmer had just offered her.
"He stood in front of her, his arm still in a sling, and looked down at her. She had evidently made her toilet with the greatest care; the time at Isa's sick-bed had not passed unused, it seemed. She still wore a black dress, but her white neck gleamed beneath a quantity of delicate black lace, and filmy lace also fell over her arms; the fichu knotted below her bosom was held together by a pale rose, and there was also a rose in her hair; Susanna Mattoni looked charming in her half-Spanish costume. And yet if, with disorderly hair and careless toilet, and, instead of the lace, one of Anna Maria's aprons, I had found her at Isa's bed, could I have detected in her face a single sign of the fearful night before, I would have thrown my arms about the child and said: 'Come, Susanna, my little Susanna, your refuge is at Bütze.' But now? But thus?
"My heart seemed almost paralyzed. In another moment I was standing by Susanna, and was able to say pleasantly that I had come to take her home.
"Stürmer drew my hand to his lips, much pleased, 'Ah! my dearest, best Aunt Rosamond, again at Dambitz at last," he cried. Susanna stood as if petrified by my unexpected appearance. 'Well, my child,' I said to her, as Stürmer, after pushing up a chair for me, went into the castle; 'how is your Isa? She is quite well again, is she?'
"Susanna shook her head. 'No,' she replied, 'Isa is still very weak.'
"'Who takes care of her then?' I asked, sharply.
"'Herr von Stürmer has engaged a woman to nurse her,' she informed me, 'who probably understands it better than I.'