"Well, you fine little specimen," he cried, drawing her towards him, "will you come with your sister and live with me? You must be a good girl and learn to love me and call me grandfather, as she does?" Johanna, kneeling at his feet, covered the dear withered hand with tears and kisses. "Child, child, are you mad! Get up, get up!" cried the Freiherr. And, as he raised her, Ludwig approached. "Now everything is so happily arranged," he said, with hardly-won composure, "that I can leave you without anxiety. Good-by!" "What do you mean?" asked Johanna, more struck by his voice and manner than by his words. "Where are you going in such a hurry?" "To London for the present," he replied, "and then to India again----" "No!" Johanna interrupted him; and her look was like sunshine in his soul. "You will stay with us; I cannot spare you." She had taken his hand. He drew her towards him. "Johanna," he whispered, "if I stay I must hope!" "We will both do that," she answered, with a beaming smile; and, turning to the Freiherr, she added, "Grandpapa, Ludwig is going to Dönninghausen with us." CHAPTER XXXII. TWO YEARS AFTERWARD. Nearly two years had passed; it was the 2d of November, and all Dönninghausen was astir. The Freiherr's eightieth birthday was to be celebrated, and as the sun shone bright and warm in cloudless skies, it seemed as if mountain and valley, the sparkling brook, and the forest in its autumnal splendour, were taking part in the family festival. Even the old castle itself was in a gala dress; the coat of arms over the entrance was wreathed with evergreens, as was the marble balustrade of the terrace and the arch of the entrance hall, while from the bell-tower the flag, with its silver tower upon an azure field, fluttered in the morning wind. The first festivities were over. In the early morning the school-children had sung a hymn upon the terrace beneath the Freiherr's windows; then he had received the gifts and congratulations of his family. He had rejoiced in the numerous circle gathered around the breakfast-table, and, above all, in his blooming train of great-grandsons. Waldemar's children had been living at Dönninghausen for a year now, and all the little Wildenhayns, with their parents, were present upon this occasion. And after breakfast, in accordance with ancient custom, the inspector, the butler, the men- and maidservants, the shepherd and herdsmen, the woodmen and day-labourers, the bailiff, the miller, the forester, the pastor, and the doctor came to offer their congratulations. Even the inmates of the poor-house came to wish their benefactor a long life. At last they had all departed, and, somewhat relieved, the Freiherr, accompanied by Leo, betook himself to the drawing-room; but, instead of the family group he had expected to see, he found only his sister, who was confined by gout to her wheeled-chair by the fireplace, in which, in spite of the sunshine, a bright fire was blazing.