Thus Oswald's mind was wandering restlessly about in a labyrinth of painful doubts as he himself was wandering among the cliffs on the lonely shore, and who knows where this constant brooding on painful riddles might have led him in the end, if an event had not occurred which forced him unexpectedly, and very much against his will, to return to that society which he hated so bitterly. CHAPTER XIII. For when he returned on the next following day, towards evening, from a long absence to the village, he found a carriage and two horses standing before the door of Mother Carsten's cottage. This was so very unusual an event in this secluded part of the world, that Oswald at once presumed something extraordinary must have happened. Women and children, and the few men who were not out fishing, stood staring around the carriage and the door of the cottage. They wanted to know if Stephen, Mother Carsten's father, was really going to die this time, or whether the young doctor whom Mother Carsten had sent for a few hours ago, would once more save him in spite of his fearful cough. This was what Oswald learned when he came in their midst. They stood there with troubled faces, and were very talkative, contrary to their usual habit. For Father Stephen was the patriarch of the village, honored by all, even by Oswald, who, forgetful of his incognito, at once hastened into the house and the sitting-room. The white-haired old man sat there pale and languid, but apparently out of danger--thanks to the opportune assistance of Doctor Braun, who was just trying to escape from the expressions of gratitude with which he was overwhelmed by Mother Carsten, her daughters, and half a dozen other women. "Welcome!" he said to Oswald, as the latter entered, "Welcome indeed, for I have a commission for you; will you permit me to deliver it at once, as my time is short?" The doctor took Oswald unceremoniously by the arm and led him out of the house. "Pardon my impatience," he said, as they were walking down the beach arm in arm, "but you see I am running away from the thanks of these good people; and secondly, I look upon you, although we have, to my regret, met only once before, as an old acquaintance, for you have been very much in my thoughts since we met last at Mother Claus' cottage. But now for my message! You probably do not know that the Grenwitz family have all returned from their great journey, which I had prescribed a few days ago." "No!" said Oswald, very much astonished.