The parting of the friends that evening was truly affecting. Klemm was made to promise a visit to the village—“Though,” said he, “I may make an impression on Louise unfavorably to you.” “I do not fear that,” said Adolph. “_Die vollige Liebe treibet die Furcht aus_,” said Klemm. “A German quotation which I will show you in the original, or at least explain to you when we meet in your village.” Klemm took leave of Adolph and Ponto, the faithful dog, and proceeded on his journey. Men gather to see a regiment, a single company, or even a little squad depart for the camp—but few look out for the returning wounded—they come back singly and sorrowful. The wagon that was passing the ferry house nearly opposite the village in which resided Madam Berien, stopped for a moment, and a soldier, war-worn and wounded, stepped slowly from the vehicle, followed by his dog. He entered the house, and as he closed the door upon a small parlor, he found himself confronted by a female. “Adolph!” “Louise!” “And your mother?” “Well—all well.” “And Ponto,” too, said Louise, as the affectionate dog, after reconnoitering round her, sprang up to receive his share of the caresses—“Ponto, too, come back.” “Yes. But this is not Ponto that left the village with me. How comes he to be so familiar with you?” “Your wounds are better?” “I am well nearly. I need only rest—only your kindness, and I shall be ready for another campaign,” said he with a melancholy smile. The boat awaited the passengers, and a few on the opposite shore were waiting for the CONSCRIPT’S RETURN. Adolph was received by the villagers on the shore with hearty welcome, and was conducted toward his former residence. As he entered the little hamlet, he turned slowly into the church, and at the foot of the humble altar poured out to Heaven the thanks which swelled up in his heart for his return. And near him one heart gushing with love and gratitude was breathing out its thanksgiving that the wanderer had first sought the house of God. [Illustration: THE RETURN.] The post-office the next day supplied a letter, without post-mark, giving Adolph an officer’s commission for the gallantry that saved his colonel’s life at the imminent risk of his own, and extending his furlough for a year. “But Louise,” said Adolph, “how your complexion has suffered since I saw you.” “I have been absent for some weeks.” “Yes, and these mountain relatives of yours always look of about the same color as one of their ripe grapes.” Adolph having now some position, and a source of reliance upon his good resolution, presented himself before Madam Berien to solicit formally the hand of her daughter. The matter _had_ evidently occupied the worthy lady’s attention, as she consented at once, referred to an early day for the marriage, and desired that her own house might be the residence of her son-in-law and his wife.