"Bernhard," cried the old man, wringing his hands in his turn, "thou castest a stone on thy father's heart, and its weight sinks him to the earth." "And you ruin your son," cried Bernhard, in uncontrolled passion. "See to it for whom you are lying and cheating; for, as sure as there is a heaven above us, it shall never be said that you have done it for your unhappy son." "My son," wailed the father, "do not smite my heart with your curses. Ever since you were a little lad, carrying your satchel to school, you have been all my pride. I have always allowed you to do your own pleasure. I have bought you books. I have given you more money than you required. I have watched your eyes to read your wishes there. While I was toiling hard all day below, I used to think, 'Because of my pains, my son will rejoice.'" He took the corner of his dressing-gown to wipe his eyes, and tried to recover his composure. And so he sat, a broken-down man, face to face with his son. Bernhard looked silently at his father's bent head. At last he reached out his hand. "My father!" he gently said. Ehrenthal instantly seized the proffered hand between his, and holding it fast for fear it should be again withdrawn, he came nearer, kissed and stroked it. "Now thou art my own kind son once more," said he, with emotion; "now thou wilt not speak such wicked words again, or quarrel with me about this baron." Bernhard snatched his hand away. "I will not press him; I will have patience about the interest," said Ehrenthal, beseechingly, trying to recover his son's hand. "Ah! it is useless to speak to him!" cried Bernhard, in deepest distress; "he does not even understand my words." "I will understand every thing," gasped out Ehrenthal, "if you will only give me back your hand." "Will you relinquish your plan about the estate?" asked Bernhard. "Speak not of the estate," besought the old man. "In vain!" murmured Bernhard, turning away and hiding his face in his hands. Ehrenthal sat by him annihilated and sighing deeply. "Hear me, my son," said he, at length; "I will see if I can not get him another estate that he can buy with his remaining means. Do you hear me, my son Bernhard?" "Go!" cried Bernhard, without anger, but with the energy of intense grief. "Go, and leave me alone!" Ehrenthal rose and left the room, walking up and down vehemently in the next, wringing his hands, and talking to himself. Then he opened the door, approaching Bernhard's bed, and asked, in a piteous voice, "Wilt thou not give me thy hand, my son?" But Bernhard lay silent, with averted face. It was with a beating heart that Anton, two days later, gave his name to the baron's servant. "Wohlfart!" cried the baron, and the recollection of the letter returned disagreeably to him; "bring him in." He met Anton's low bow rather coolly. "I am obliged to you," said he, "for a letter lately received, and you must excuse my having, on account of much business on hand, left it unanswered."