The honest pastor could not reply. This was what he had so long looked forward to, and now he was really grieved that the kind heart of the old man could not enjoy the brief pleasure of his little surprise. But as he stood silently there, the old man raised his eyes, met that look of love and sorrow, and threw himself into his arms. “No,” cried he, “no longer bent with age, but erect and strong—away with dissimulation! O my benefactor, I am—” “Stay!” interrupted the pastor, “there shall indeed be no dissembling in this happy moment. Sir William C——, I know you. The doctor wrote me all about you.” “Take me, then, to your wife and children; they are mine, you are mine, but you must take me for payment, and keep me for the rest of my life.” “Hush!” said the pastor, “my wife and children know nothing of the secret, now see what they will say. Come in, dear guest, come in.” “Ah!” cried Theodora, joyfully, “our old man from A——.” The children gathered round, the mother welcomed him cordially, and seated him in the arm-chair by the bright fire. Speechless he looked round upon them all, but kept Theodora’s hand in his while his gaze rested with evident satisfaction upon her lovely face. “Light the colored Christmas candles, Catharine,” said the father, “and seat yourselves all round the table.” Then he opened his desk, took from it the doctor’s letter, stroked his wife’s cheek, and said— “Ah, Catharine, all this has weighed upon me like a mountain, but now all that I know, you, dear ones, shall know, too, and our guest here shall tell us whether it be true or no.” And then he read the doctor’s letter. Let whoever can, imagine the variety of emotions that overcame all the listeners; the astonishment of the mother, the gentle emotion of the guest, the alternate red and white that overspread Theodora’s cheek, and the delight of the little ones. “Here I am, dear ones,” said the old man, at the end of the reading, “and here I shall stay, in dear, cheerful Germany.” “Where then is—is—” stammered Theodora. But just then the door was flung open, and there stood Robert, his eyes beaming with love and joy. “Oh, Robert! my Robert!” she cried, and would have rushed toward him, but overcome by her happiness, she sank into her mother’s arms. The old man took his son’s hand, and turning to the pastor, said, “May I woo your daughter for my noble son?” “May I,” continued Robert, “be your son, O, dear friend?” “And may I say,” interrupted his father, “that I have bought the castle yonder, and that I beg your daughter’s acceptance of it as a bridal gift?” “My son! my daughter!” cried the weeping parents, and embraced the lovers, while the children crowded round the old man. “But now for supper!” cried the pastor, “if there is any one here who can ever eat again; and, mamma, pray see that it is a real Christmas feast.”