Meanwhile the mourners had all got out of the carriage, and when Alick and his three sisters were standing on the road little Mrs. Behrens and Louisa Hawermann, who were both dressed in black joined them, and Mrs. Behrens with heart-felt compassion pressed the hands of the two elder ladies who had hitherto always held themselves aloof from her, because they were so much impressed with the dignity of their social position--but death and sorrow make all men equal, the great and mighty of the earth bow beneath the hand of God, for they feel that they are nothing in comparison with Him, and at such times the lowly come forward to meet them, for they know that the sympathy which they show comes from God.--To-day David Däsel had had the pleasure of shaking hands with the ladies, and they had had the comfort of seeing in his honest face and tearful eyes how truly he grieved for them.--Louisa threw her arms round her friend, Miss Fidelia, and not knowing how to express her sympathy with her, contented herself with saying: "There!" with a deep sigh, as she thrust a bunch of red and white roses into her hand, and while doing so she looked at her friend as much as to say that she intended the flowers, which were her greatest treasures to be a sign of her loving sympathy. All eyes were turned on the child of fourteen--but was she still a child?--Are those only buds, or are the leaves really showing when the birch-tree shimmers green after a warm shower of rain in May? And as for the human soul, it puts forth its leaves when first under the influence of some strong feeling, in like manner as the birch after rain. "Who is that?" Alick asked his cousin who was staring at the child.--"Who is that young girl, Frank?" he asked again, touching his cousin's arm.--"That young girl?" asked Frank as if he could hardly take away his eyes from her, "that child, you mean? She is Mr. Hawermann's daughter."--The bailiff was also watching her, and as he did so he remembered his thoughts on the night of the Squire's death. "No," he said to himself, "surely the Lord won't do that."--Nonsense!--She was not ill. Oh God, if she had inherited her mother's constitution, his poor wife had had just such beautiful rosy cheeks.--"I say, just look!" said Bräsig rousing him out of his reverie.--"It _is_ him! Just look, Charles, here's Samuel Pomuchelskopp! And he has got on a black swallow-tail coat!"