Herr Ritter did not go back to his lodgings then. He went past the low house with its green verandah, blistering under the fierce noon-sun, and across the pastures to the cottage of 'Lora Delcor. She was sitting at the open door, her thin transparent palms pressed tightly together, as though she were praying, and her great fringed eyelids dark and heavy with their burden of pain. Ah! 'Lora! 'Lora! "blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted!" Not in the world that men have made, daughter of earth, ah, not in that; but in the world that God shall make hereafter! "Herr Ritter! you have been? O tell me what she said! 'Tista is not here, he is gone into the woods to gather herbs." "Have you told 'Tista anything?" "About this? Nothing. I thought I would wait until I knew--" She had risen from her seat to greet him, with painful agitation; and now she staggered, and I think would have fallen, but that the old man timely caught and held her in his gentle grasp. "Be comforted, dear 'Lora," he whispered; " bring you good news." She dropped into her wooden chair and covered her face with her bloodless hands, weeping and sobbing for joy, as only women can who have suffered much and long and alone. Herr Ritter stood by, watching her kindly, and stroking his white flowing beard in silence, until she had wept her fill; and her dark blissful eyes, dreamy with the mist of fallen tears, were lifted again to his face, like caverned pools in summer refreshed with a happy rain. "What did she say? she sent me a note? a message?" Herr Ritter poured his pistoles into her lap. "I bring you these," said he, simply. "Jesu-Maria! She sent me all this! how good! how generous! but ought I to take it, Herr?" "It is for 'Tista; to pay his apprenticeship. But there is a condition, dear Frau; 'Tista is not to know who sends him this gift. He is to be told it comes from an unknown friend. When he is older he will know, perhaps." "My kind dear 'Lotta! Ah, she would have 'Tista learn to love her, then, before she tells him of her goodness! For him I cannot refuse the money; can I, Herr? But I may go and thank her myself; I may go and thank her?" "Not just yet, 'Lora. Your sister is obliged to leave this place tomorrow morning; Signor Nero's engagements compel him to proceed; and so for the present time she charged me to bear you with the gift, her greeting, and her farewell." He was looking at her with grave mild eyes, while he leant against the cottage-wall and stroked his silver beard. Daughter of earth, let God be judge; for He alone understands the heart of mortal man. As for me, I am only a flower of the dust of the ground, yet I confess I thought the deceit the old philosopher used, at least more graceful and gentle than the candour of Carlotta Nero. "'Lora: you are happy now?" She looked up and smiled in his eyes. In that smile the philosopher had his reward.