Surely there is not much else to relate of this marriage, though I shall never forget how lost and lonesome I felt, like a father bereft of his son, when our justice asked Sonnlein--and ever hath he been Sonnlein to me--"Dost thou, Charles Seymour, take this woman, our Genoveva, to be thy lawful wedded wife," my boy responded proudly, "Yea." And then, as I remember it, our justice asked our lovely Genoveva a like question if she would take him to be her husband, and upon her low "Yea," our justice pronounced them husband and wife, and promptly saluted her with such a willing smack as made even the Sisters titter, while poor Brother Ezechial hung his head still lower, blushing to his very ears. The next day Sonnlein and Genoveva left on their honeymoon with his uncle for Coventry, and though Coventry be not to the end of the world, it seemed to me as though all the world had left me, only that she kissed me ere she left, whereat I blushed so through all my long beard, that Sonnlein laughed so heartily I liked it not; but had he known how long I cherished the memory of that kiss, the only one for many a long year, ah me, my boy had not laughed so boisterously I know. CHAPTER XXVII RETROSPECT Moreo'er, the shields so steady and the consecrated swords, O God, that I were worthy to join the victor lords. Then should I like the others achieve a prize untold, Not lands that have been promised, nor king's or noble's gold, But oh, a wondrous crown, and for evermore to wear A crown which poorest soldier can win with axe and spear. Yea, if the noble crusade I might follow o'er the sea, I evermore should sing, All's well! and nevermore, Ah me! Nevermore, Ah me! --Walther Von der Vogelweide. And now, after the long lapse of many years since my boy and our Genoveva were made one--and yet how short the time hath been--one of my chiefest delights is to dwell on the past. Mine eyes are no longer turned toward the future with eager questioning as in my youth. In mine old age I am like unto an old tree standing alone, a solitary landmark of the decline of our Kloster, the setting sun casting my shadow toward the morning. The Kloster hath never survived the indomitable spirit of its founder, Brother Beissel, and his sturdy associates. Slowly but surely its power hath diminished. Since the days our warrior, Brother Wohlforth, left us many others of our number have gone to their eternal reward. Brother Obed, our schoolmaster, with his kindly, genial soul, long ago have I missed him from his accustomed place, and the Eckerlings, of whose sad fate we heard years after they left us, they too, with their dreams of commercial conquest, have passed away to that realm which harbors neither bargain nor sale.