Peter called out welcome to Titus' daughter, and jumping nimbly from his horse, he held out his hand to her. But she said her hands were wet; she could not give him one; and she disappeared. Peter went into the living-room, where Titus sat at a large table, figuring on some papers that lay before him. "Oh, that's you!" he called out to Peter; "you're come just in time for butcher's soup. Sit down." Peter did not use much ceremony, but told his wish. His mother was dead; his father had gone to see Anton to-day to straighten out matters for Thoma again; and was going to give up the farm and live with her at the saw-mill. "So," said Peter, in conclusion, "you know what I want. I need a wife." "You go ahead quickly," replied Titus; "but I have no objection. Have you already spoken to Marianne?" "Not exactly; but I guess it'll be all right." "I think so too. Shall I call her?" "Yes." Titus sent a maid for his daughter; but she sent back, asking her father to "come to her for a few minutes." "What does that mean?" said Titus. He was not used to have his children oppose any of his orders. "Excuse me," he said to Peter; and left the room. Peter felt cornered: how would it be if he had to ride home dejected? Perhaps he had a suspicion of what was going on between Titus and his daughter; for she said: "Father, do you want me to take Peter? Yesterday his mother was buried, and to-day he goes courting." Titus declared that that was of no consequence, and when Marianne began to express a dislike, an aversion, to Peter, he interrupted her peremptorily. "Peter is a substantial farmer. So there's nothing more to be said about it. You must take him. Put on another dress and make haste to come in." He returned to Peter, and said, "The matter is arranged." But Marianne said to the old maid-servant in her bedroom, "I take him because I must; but he shall pay for it. He shall find out who I am." She entered the room. Peter held out his hand to her, simply saying that this was only for the present; that to-morrow or Sunday his father would come and ask for her hand in the usual form. "Yes, your father," interrupted Titus. "Does he know that you are here?" "It isn't necessary for my father to know; the farm has been in my hands for a long time, and I've only let him appear to be of some consequence before the world." "Yes; but does your father know that I was one of those who said guilty?" "No, he need never know it." While they were speaking a man came with the message that Peter must come immediately to Anton's saw-mill, for Landolin was in great danger. Just as the butcher's soup was served, and Peter's mouth was watering for it, he was obliged to leave. CHAPTER LXIX. The wild water rushes from mountain to valley. It flows and splashes through all the ditches. Even through the middle of the road a small brook has torn its way. It is all so merry, and to-morrow it will not be there.