"From that time they lived alone, and were all and all to each other, refusing every invitation that came from court--only now and then, they took little journeys; though it was easy to see that they were always happiest at home, among our solitary woods. The countess never changed to me, and used always to tell me everything. The only thing we never spoke of, was what had passed between us on that awful morning, when she had wanted to go away--I never heard whether she confessed the real reason to her husband. I rather think it likely that she did, for now the count had a peculiar look of tenderness, whenever he mentioned his absent son; even when he got a letter from Stockholm. When that happened he would send for me upstairs, and talk to me of my darling, and give me the love he never forgot to send me. Once or twice a year he wrote to me himself; familiarly and kindly, as ever, but never a word of what was most important to me--not a word of what he felt or thought." "When he had been about two years away, he wrote to announce his intended marriage with a highborn young lady in Sweden, and to ask for his father's consent. To me he wrote, that he hoped I should not withhold my blessing, as his bride was exactly such as I would have chosen for him myself. And afterwards he sent me her picture;--an angel's face; all gentleness and goodness. Before I had seen it, I used sometimes to torment myself with thinking that he had only made up his mind to marry, in order to set his father's mind at rest. But I knew, those great clear, innocent eyes of hers, must have found their way to his heart." "Then came accounts of the wedding, and of their beautiful wedding-tour among the mountains. You will hardly believe it, sir, but even then the young countess found time and thoughts to spare for poor old Flor. She wrote to thank me, for having taken such care of her Ernest all his life, she said. But there was no word of their coming back to Germany, especially after the pair of twins was born--which event was an occasion of great rejoicing here in this castle. The count used to talk of going to Sweden, and taking me along with them; and you will believe that my head was turned by the thoughts of such a journey, and such a meeting." "But it is not for us to number our days--many an old cripple, or useless pensioner, has to stand sentinel a weary while, watching for the call, and waiting to be relieved. And other lives, on which a whole world of happiness hangs, are taken--we do not know how or why."