ning, Lenz," cried Katharine's voice.

"What are you doing there?"

"I have been with Franzl. She sent for our maid to keep her company,
for she is old and timid. I should not be afraid if your mother herself
came back. Good night, Lenz! good night! good night!"

She said good night three times, as Franzl had bidden her. There must
be some charm in the words. Who knows what may come of them?

CHAPTER IV.

EACH BEFORE HIS OWN DOOR.

The cool evening following the excessive heat of the day had tempted
the villagers out of doors. Some families sat on the bench before their
houses, but more were gathered about the stone railing of the bridge,
always a favorite place of evening resort for rest or social chat after
the day's work. Thence can be seen the passing on both sides, while the
babbling of the brook provokes conversation. Various woods were lying
seasoning in the water below. The clocks were less likely to warp or
shrink when the wood of which they were made had been thoroughly
drained of its juices. But the people on the bridge understood the
process of seasoning in all its branches. The subject of their talk
now, even as late in the day as this, was the morning's funeral, which
naturally led to a discussion of young Lenz and the necessity of his
making a speedy marriage. The women were lavish of their praises of
him, not a few of their encomiums being meant as hints to the men that
they might profitably follow his example, since virtue, when seen, was
so readily appreciated. The men, however, pronounced him a good sort of
fellow enough, only too soft-hearted. The young girls, with the
exception of those who had declared lovers, said nothing; especially as
the suggestion had been started that Lenz was to marry one of the
doctor's daughters. Some even asserted that it was a settled thing, and
would be publicly announced as soon as the proper time of mourning was
over. Suddenly, no one knew how or where it originated, the report
circulated from house to house, and among the persons on the bridge,
that Lenz had spent that day, the very day of his mother's funeral, in
uninterrupted work. The women lamented that avarice should mar a
character in other respects so good. The men, on the other hand, tried
to excuse him. But the conversation soon turned upon the weather and
the course of events,--both fruitful subjects, as nothing can be
foretold of either. Th