over his deeply furrowed brow, but his
features had life again, his eyes had fire and expression, and one saw
at a glance that this was no old man, but one in the zenith of his
strength and power.

Falkenried's son had not fully recovered his strength yet, and his face
showed traces of great suffering. The war had not left him younger, on
the contrary he had grown older; his pallid face, and the broad, red
scar on his forehead, told a tale of their own. For months after that
fearful night he had lain at death's door, but with returning life and
strength all traces of the old Hartmut, of Zalika's son, disappeared
forever.

It seemed as if, in casting from him the name of Rojanow, he cast with
it the unholy heritage of her who had borne him. The dark curly locks
were beginning to grow again over the high, broad forehead, so like his
father's.

The young wife by his side, so beautiful, so winning always, was
lovelier than ever now, for joy and happiness had set their seal on her
bright, girlish face! Who would recognize in this slender, graceful
figure, clad in a simple, summer frock, the proud, cold court beauty in
her laces and jewels? The smile, the tone in which she spoke to her
father and husband, Frau von Wallmoden had never known, for it was Ada
Falkenried who had learned it.

"You can go no farther to-day," said the general, standing still. "You
have a long walk back, and Hartmut is not strong enough for much yet.
The physician was very decided about his not exerting himself."

"If you only knew, father, how hard it was to be mistaken for an invalid
when I am getting so well and strong again," said Hartmut. "I am getting
strong enough--"

"To bring on a relapse by your folly," his father answered. "You have
never learned patience, and it is altogether owing to Ada that you are
as strong as you are."

"If it hadn't been for her there would be no Hartmut to-day," said her
husband, giving her a glance of tenderest love. "I believe the case was
almost hopeless when she came to me!"

"The physicians at least gave no hope, when I telegraphed for Ada in
response to your cry. The first minute you recovered consciousness, you
called for her, to my boundless astonishment, for I did not know you
even knew one another."

"That hardly seemed fair to you, papa, did it?" As she glanced up
laughing into her father's face, he drew her to him, and kissed her
forehead.

"You know best what you have been to Hartmut and