nd-daughter, a beauteous girl of sixteen, who
had hitherto been his solace and his comfort, but who had suddenly
disappeared--he knew not how--a few days previously to the time when we
discover him seated thus lonely in his poor cottage.

But perhaps she also was dead! An accident might have snatched her away
from him, and sent her spirit to join those of her father and mother,
her sisters and her brothers, whom a terrible pestilence--_the Black
Death_--hurried to the tomb a few years before.

No: the old man could not believe that his darling granddaughter was no
more--for he had sought her throughout the neighboring district of the
Black Forest, and not a trace of her was to be seen. Had she fallen down
a precipice, or perished by the ruthless murderer's hand, he would have
discovered her mangled corpse: had she become the prey of the ravenous
wolves, certain signs of her fate would have doubtless somewhere
appeared.

The sad--the chilling conviction therefore, went to the old man's heart,
that the only being left to solace him on earth, had deserted him; and
his spirit was bowed down in despair.

Who now would prepare his food, while he tended his little flock? who
was there to collect the dry branches in the forest, for the winter's
fuel, while the aged shepherd watched a few sheep that he possessed? who
would now spin him warm clothing to protect his weak and trembling
limbs?

"Oh! Agnes," he murmured, in a tone indicative of a breaking heart, "why
couldst thou have thus abandoned me? Didst thou quit the old man to
follow some youthful lover, who will buoy thee up with bright hopes, and
then deceive thee? O Agnes--my darling! hast thou left me to perish
without a soul to close my eyes?"

It was painful how that ancient shepherd wept.

Suddenly a loud knock at the door of the cottage aroused him from his
painful reverie; and he hastened, as fast as his trembling limbs would
permit him, to answer the summons.

He opened the door; and a tall man, apparently about forty years of age,
entered the humble dwelling. His light hair would have been magnificent
indeed, were it not sorely neglected; his blue eyes were naturally fine
and intelligent, but fearful now to meet, so wild and wandering were
their glances: his form was tall and admirably symmetrical, but
prematurely bowed by the weight of sorrow, and his attire was of costly
material, but indicative of inattention even more than it was
travel-soiled.

The