After all, the eye is more eloquent than the tongue. Heinrich thought he could not mistake it in this instance. It was certainly rather singular that the two should meet in the walk one pleasant Sabbath afternoon; and no less so, perhaps, that, precisely at the moment, the Fraulein should drop a brooch which she held in her hand. Of course, she searched for it diligently in every place but the right one; and, of course, Heinrich was required, by the claims of politeness, to volunteer his assistance. The lost ornament was soon found; but Heinrich, probably fearing it might be lost again, did not leave the Fraulein, but accompanied her, by a very round-about way, to her home. Perhaps it might have been absence of mind that made them miss the direct way,—at least, so we will conjecture, since we can do nothing more. At all events, such was the commencement of Heinrich’s acquaintance with the Fraulein. They used to meet every Sabbath afternoon; and Heinrich, acknowledging his presumption all the time, ventured to confess that his whole hope of happiness rested upon her answer to a little question which he had to propose. What that question was, I may as well leave to be surmised. The answer was conditionally favorable. The maiden intimated that no opposition need be anticipated from her, provided he should obtain her father’s consent. Heinrich felt very happy until he began to consider that this qualification might prove a very formidable one; and he feared that the superintendent might think the young workman altogether an inadequate match for his daughter, whose dowry would be twenty thousand florins at the very least. But there is an old saying,—“Faint heart never won fair lady.” Whether Heinrich had ever heard of this, or whether, indeed, it had ever been translated into Dutch at all, I am quite unable to say; but, at all events, he was resolved that such a prize should not pass from his hands without a struggle. * * * * * Although the young workman was far from being constitutionally timid, preserving an undaunted front in the face of danger, it must be confessed that his heart beat audibly and his hand trembled perceptibly as he knocked at the door of the superintendent’s office; not that there was any thing particularly suited to inspire fear in the rotund figure of that personage. The latter perceived that the young man was disturbed. He was rather flattered to find it so, as he attributed it solely to the effect of his presence, which he privately considered not a little imposing. It was, therefore, with an approach to affability that he motioned him to be seated, and inquired,— “Well, my good fellow, how goes business? Have you come for any instructions?” “No, your excellency,” replied Heinrich. “Business goes well enough; but it is on another subject that I wish to trouble you.” “Well, out with it, man. No parleying,—that’s my way.” “You have a daughter.”