"Oh, he told mother all about it, and I ought not to have heard it, but I did hear. Last week, one night when he was biding to try and catch the thief who steals our grapes, he heard some one going softly towards the school-house, and he hid close, thinking it was the thief. And then he saw it was Herr Gleissert, who busied himself about the place where the letters are slipped into the box. And father crept nearer, and saw plainly how he poked something long and thin into the slit and drew out the letters, and then lighted a match and held his hat before it that no one might see it. Then by the light of the match he read all the writing on the letters, and put them back again into the box,--all but one, which he kept. And then he went home to the castle again. Father said he wanted to seize him and hold him, but he did not know what weapons he might have about him, and that there was no use of accusing him, for father would be sure to get the worst of it." "What mischief can the scoundrel be brewing?" said Herr Leonhardt, anxiously. Walter laughed. "Ah, father, we are paid now for always reading the addresses of the letters he sent from the castle." "That is an entirely different case," said Leonhardt "But our friend ought to know this before he reaches the castle. Run, Walter, you are young and strong; try to overtake him, and tell him." "Yes, father, I can do it easily. Sit down here, I will soon return," said the young man, hurrying away, fleet-footed as a deer. Herr Leonhardt felt for Käthchen. "My child, are you there?" "Yes, Father Leonhardt." "Käthchen, you have repaid me to-day for all the love I have ever given you." He passed his hands over the little, thin face. "I cannot see you; they tell me you are changed,--and I think you must be. But in my mind's eye you will always have the same roguish black eyes and chubby rosy cheeks, with the little berry-stained mouth,--you have never since told what is not true, eh, Käthi?" "No, Father Leonhardt, on my word and honour, never, and I never will again. I am now the richest child in all the country round, mother says, and I will try to be the best, and thank the kind God, as you say I should, by kindness to others. And, now that I cannot fold my hands any more when I say my prayers, I must pray very hard indeed,--harder than before,--for then I always felt as if I had the dear God between my hands and could keep Him and make Him listen to me, but now that I cannot do that I must call Him oftener, and beg Him to listen to my prayers." "My dear little child, God is always near you,--he loves to dwell in a pure, childlike heart. Käthchen, you are a flower in the blind man's path. Do you know what that means?" Käthchen laid her head upon Leonhardt's knee. "I think it means that you love me." "Yes, my child, and that there are few joys in my life like what you are to me." "But, father, you have Walter, he is more to you than I can be."