“I choose him for you, I say; and what is his birth to me? I do not care to know his family, since I know him. Think of it; he is the only anchor of salvation left to you. Fortunately, I believe that he does not feel the same aversion for you which you show for him.” The poor girl raised her eyes to heaven. “You hear me, Ethel! I repeat, what is his birth to me? He is doubtless of obscure rank, for those born in palaces are not taught to frequent prisons. Do not show such proud regret, my daughter; do not forget that Ethel Schumacker is no longer Princess of Wollin and Countess of Tönsberg. You have fallen lower than the point from which your father rose by his own efforts. Consider yourself happy if this man accept your hand, be his family what it may. If he be of humble birth, so much the better, my daughter; at least your days will be sheltered from the storms which have tormented your father. Far from the envy and hatred of men, under some unknown name, you will lead a modest existence, very different from mine, for its end will be better than its beginning.” Ethel fell on her knees. “Oh, father, have mercy!” He opened his arms to her in amazement. “What do you mean, my daughter?” “In Heaven’s name, do not describe a happiness which is not for me!” “Ethel,” sternly answered the old man, “do not risk your whole life. I refused the hand of a princess of the blood royal, a princess of Holstein Augustenburg,--do you hear that?--and my pride was cruelly punished. You despise an obscure but loyal man; tremble lest yours be as sadly chastised.” “Would to Heaven,” sighed Ethel, “that he were an obscure and loyal man!” The old man rose, and paced the room in agitation. “My daughter,” said he, “your poor father implores and commands you. Do not let me die uncertain as to your future; promise me that you will accept this stranger as your husband.” “I will obey you always, father; but do not hope that he will return.” “I have weighed the probabilities, and I think from the tone in which Ordener uttered your name--” “That he loves me!” bitterly interrupted Ethel. “Oh, no; do not believe it.” The father answered coldly: “I do not know whether, to use your girlish expression, he loves you; but I know that he will return.” “Give up that idea, father; besides, you would not wish him for your son-in-law if you knew who he is.” “Ethel, he shall be my son-in-law, be his name and rank what they may.” “Well!” she replied, “how if this young man, whom you regard as your solace, whom you consider as your daughter’s support, be the son of one of your mortal foes,--of the viceroy of Norway, Count Guldenlew?” Schumacker started back. “Heavens! what do you say? Ordener! that Ordener! It is impossible!” The look of unutterable hatred which flashed from the old man’s faded eyes froze Ethel’s trembling heart, and she vainly repented the rash words which she had uttered.