"Then came the mourning visits from far and near, and Susanna received them in the salon. She sat there, so broken down, her charming face surrounded by the black crape veil, the point of her little widow's cap on her white forehead, and her black-bordered handkerchief always wet with bitter tears.
"Anna Maria was never present during such calls. She fled to the garden and did not return till the last carriage had rolled away from the court. She was gentle and tender toward Susanna--'he loved her so much!' she said softly.
"It was November. In Susanna's little boudoir the lamp was lighted, and the young wife lay, in her deep black woollen dress, on the blue cushions; she held a book in her hand, and now and then cast a glance at it. Occasionally she coughed a little, and each time quickly held her handkerchief to her lips. I had come down, as I did every evening, to look after her and the child. The little fellow was already asleep--'thank God,' as Susanna added. The nurse was probably asleep with him in the next room, it was very still in there. Isa was bustling busily about the stove, for it was bitterly cold out-of-doors; on the table beside Susanna lay a quantity of colored wools, as well as a piece of embroidery begun, and extremely pleasant and comfortable was this little room. Who in the world could have desired a more comfortable spot on a snowy, stormy evening?
"'Where is Anna Maria?' I asked pleasantly, after the first greeting.
"Susanna shook her head. 'I don't know,' she said feebly, and let her book drop.
"'Fräulein Anna Maria is in the master's cabinet,' Isa answered. 'Herr von Stürmer has just ridden away.'
"Susanna's eyes flamed up for a moment. 'Why did he not come in here?' she asked. She raised herself a little. 'Ah! aunt,' she whispered, 'I think I am going to be ill. I have a constant irritation in my throat, and I feel so wretchedly. Dr. Reuter said last week I ought not to spend the severe winter here. Ah! and yet I cannot bring myself to decide to go away.'
"'I can feel with you, my dear child,' I returned. 'I would not go either, in your place.'
"Her eyes suddenly filled with tears. 'Yes, it is all the same if I die _here_!' she replied.
"'Oh, don't believe any such thing, Susy,' I said jestingly. 'You must live for your child; you are exhausted by all this dreadful affair; the winter will soon be over.'