'The separation will be painful to you, then?' Hedwig said, continuing the conversation.'
'Certainly. In the great city, a longing will often come over me, a longing for Edmund and ... for the dear old mountains.'
The answer was so brief and decided that the girl looked up in surprise. Oswald noticed this, and added, by way of amendment:
'Forgive me. I forgot that Ettersberg will shortly be your home. I was thinking only of the circumstances which have made my sojourn there a painful one, and which no doubt have long been known to you.'
'But surely the circumstances you speak of have been modified. The family now place no obstacle in the way of your future career.'
'No; I have forcibly secured for myself freedom of action; but it cost a conflict, and to contend with my aunt is no light task, as you will one day find out for yourself.'
'I?' asked Hedwig, in surprise. 'I trust no contention may ever arise between me and my mother-in-law!'
She drew herself up as she spoke, and measured her companion with a half-proud, half-angry glance. He replied firmly and quietly:
'It may perhaps seem indelicate in me to touch on this subject, and it may be that you will altogether reject my interference as unwarranted, but I cannot go without uttering at least one word of warning. My aunt often speaks of leaving Ettersberg after her son's marriage--of retiring to her house of Schönfeld. Edmund opposes this plan vehemently, and hitherto you have lent him your support. Do so no longer; on the contrary, persuade him, if possible, to let his mother go. You owe it to him and to yourself, for both his happiness and yours are at stake. There will be no room at Ettersberg for a young mistress, so long as the Countess retains her position there--and in your case, grafted on an old enmity is a new and strong prejudice which you will find it hard to encounter.'
'I really do not understand you, Herr von Ettersberg,' said Hedwig, not a little agitated. 'Prejudice? Enmity? You cannot possibly be alluding to that foolish lawsuit about Dornau?'
'Not to the suit itself, but to the hostile feeling which gave rise to it. You probably do not know who strengthened and confirmed your grandfather in his harsh obduracy, and induced him finally altogether to ignore his daughter's marriage with a commoner. But your father knows, and he is mistaken if he thinks that the Countess has outlived her prejudices. She gave her consent to this union in a moment of surprise, moved by a sudden burst of gratitude towards the man who had saved her life, moved, above all, by her great love for her son. What would she not do or surrender for his sake? But sooner or later she will repent the concession, if she does not repent already, and it is not Edmund, but you, who will be made to suffer for it.'