Her old love for Bertram, which after all she had felt in her own way, and which long ago she had sacrificed to her vanity and worldliness, was stirring again. Lydia felt it, and was enraptured. True, she had been lying and cheating to reach a certain goal that pure calculation had fixed. Still, she was a better woman than she had thought herself. She had thought that she was following the dictates of her reason only, and lo! she had unconsciously remained faithful to her own heart. She knew it now, at the moment when a serious danger was threatening the loved one. And, curiously, although during the last few days she had positively given up all hope of regaining the loved one, and had in envy and anger seen him in the bonds of affection for a fair young rival--an affection which, moreover, was warmly reciprocated; yet she suddenly began to doubt the justice of her observations; the old dreams were coming back and asserted that they were a reality, and that everything else was but a chimera. All, all would yet come right. Falsehood and hypocrisy had been powerless; truth and love, however, would be omnipotent!
Then she began to rehearse in her mind that unfortunate letter which she had purloined in order to gain a clear insight into Erna's sentiments, now endeavouring to give the gentlest interpretation to every word that referred to Bertram; she remembered, too, the passage which seemed to refer to a former love affair of Erna's. But she and Hildegard, eager only to discover what they most, or rather what they only, feared, namely, an attachment to Bertram, had added no weight to the brief allusion in question. Some childish "dancing-lesson fondness," Hildegard had said, and she had assented to it, partly to guard against the possibility of the reproach that she, in her responsible position as Erna's educator and second mother, had overlooked or actually allowed any serious attachment on her part. "Betrayed"--that surely was plain enough, and made many things clear, even though in itself it was hard to understand, was, in fact, all but absolutely incomprehensible. Such a charming creature as Erna no one is likely to betray, no one at least who is in possession of his five senses, as young gentlemen generally are. If the thing was anything more than a passing fancy--and that one had to assume, considering how averse from anything frivolous Erna was--then her easily-wounded pride must have brought the rupture about, and it might yet be healed; and if it were healed, would turn the child from her caprice for Bertram, would set Bertram free again, if indeed he had allowed himself to be captivated by Erna's unconcealed admiration for him, set him free for herself, his first, his true, his only love!