"God bless you, my daughter!" Then everything was said, and everything was settled. Old Deyke was a man of few words; but his words were like a rock--you might have built a house upon them when they were spoken. He took Margaret to his farm, and as she walked at his side, and told him artlessly how amazed she had been at the wonderful treasures of the old castle, and as she let a word fall showing every now and then, how much she knew about housekeeping, his face grew brighter and brighter. But when she sent the maidservants out of the kitchen, and lighted the fire, and cooked the dinner herself with skilful hands; when she laid the cloth, arranging everything so quickly and prettily, whilst Fritz watched her with delighted eyes; when at last she brought the old man's pipe, and lighted it for him, and then looked up at him with loving, imploring eyes, he looked at her through tears: the image of his dead wife rose before him, and he held out his hand to his son, saying,-- "I thank you for bringing me such a daughter." The young people knelt down before him, and he said, in a low half choking voice: "God bless and keep you, my dear, dear children!" The lieutenant was very quiet and thoughtful. His wound was quite healed, his nerves were grown strong again, and the wonderful reparatory powers of youth sent his blood through his veins as quickly as before. He seldom saw Helena: when she came up from the Vicarage she was surrounded by the others, and he could only exchange a few words with her. The old merry confidence between the two friends from childhood would not return; there was something new and strange between them, which closed their lips when it sought expression in words. One afternoon, when the president was hard at work with Auditor von Bergfeld, and Madame von Wendenstein, her daughters and Margaret were busy in the melancholy occupation of dismantling the house, the lieutenant walked slowly and thoughtfully towards the pastor's. The roses had withered in the pretty little garden, and the autumnal asters raised their many-coloured heads, overtopped by the tall and brilliant sunflowers. Helena sat at the open window, and often raised her eyes from her work to look dreamily over the cornfields; her father and the candidate had gone out to make some visits in the village; she was alone with her thoughts. Suddenly she trembled slightly, a blush spread hastily over her delicate face, she let her work fall into her lap; Lieutenant von Wendenstein had entered the garden, and was approaching the house. A moment later he knocked at the door of the sitting-room; she made an effort to cry "Come in," and he entered. He looked delighted when he saw that Helena was alone. He came to her quickly and took her hand. "My father is out," she said, with downcast eyes and trembling voice, "will you take a chair?"