capable of deceit? And the wretched Ethel wept and wept again, and saw her Ordener before her, the man whom she had made the unwitting divinity of her whole being, that Ordener adorned with all the splendor of his rank, advancing to the altar amid festal preparations, and gazing upon her rival with the smile that had once been her delight. However, in spite of her unspeakable agony, she never for an instant forgot her filial affection. The weak girl made the most heroic efforts to conceal her distress from her unfortunate father; for there is nothing more painful than to repress all outward signs of grief, and tears unshed are far more bitter than those that flow. Several days had passed before the silent old man observed the change in his Ethel, and at his affectionate questions her long-repressed grief had at last burst forth. For some time he watched her emotion with a bitter smile and a shake of the head; but at last he said: “Ethel, you do not live among men; why do you weep?” He had scarcely finished these words, when the sweet and noble girl rose. By a great effort she checked her tears, and dried her eyes with her scarf, saying: “Father, forgive me; it was a momentary weakness.” And she looked at him with an attempt to smile. She went to the back of the room, found the Edda, seated herself by her taciturn father, and opened the book at random; then, mastering her voice, she began to read. But her useless task was unheeded by her and by the old man, who waved his hand. “Enough, enough, my daughter!” She closed her book. “Ethel,” added Schumacker, “do you ever think of Ordener?” The young girl started in confusion. “Yes,” he continued, “of that Ordener who went--” “Father,” interrupted Ethel, “why should we trouble ourselves about him? I think as you do,--that he left us, never to return.” “Never to return, my daughter! I cannot have said such a thing. On the contrary, I have a strange presentiment that he will come back.” “That was not your opinion, father, when you spoke so distrustingly of the young man.” “Did I speak distrustfully of him?” “Yes, father, and I agree with you; I think that he deceived us.” “That he deceived us, daughter! If I judged him thus, I acted like most men who condemn without proof. I have received nothing but professions of devotion from this Ordener.” “And how do you know, father, that those cordial words did not hide treacherous thoughts?” “Usually men disregard misfortune and disgrace. If this Ordener were not attached to me, he would not have visited my prison without a purpose.” “Are you sure,” replied Ethel, feebly, “that he had no purpose in coming here?” “What could it be?” eagerly asked the old man. Ethel was silent. It was too great an effort for her to continue to accuse her beloved Ordener, whom she had formerly defended against her father.