inform me whether the old
sinner is secretly spoiling colors and washing brushes, or
conscientiously keeps to his bond. I'll then add a postscript to his
letter to the prince. Adieu, my dear fellow, I wish you success!--"

Edwin's heart beat violently as he entered the little house. The door
chanced to be open, and he met no one in the entry. His heart told him
that he should find Leah in the sitting room on the left. Yet he
knocked at the door of the studio, and without waiting for the "come
in," crossed the threshold he had so long avoided.

CHAPTER IX.

At his entrance the little artist started from a chair by the window,
where he had apparently been seated a long time, absorbed in deep
thought.

"Thank God!" he exclaimed, and his sad, honest face brightened, as he
held out both hands to Edwin--"you again walk among the living. It's
pleasant that you instantly remember your old friends--though this is
not exactly the right atmosphere for a person just recovering from
illness--you come to people who, in the midst of the loveliest air of
Spring, sit in affliction and the shadow of death. Well--it's as God
wills, I keep calm."

With the tear's streaming down his cheeks, he now told Edwin that Leah
had grown so ill that she could scarcely get an hour's sleep, and the
food she took was hardly enough to nourish an infant a week old. Yet
she bore her fate with a divine patience that often made him wonder
whence she derived her strength, since she neither prayed nor accepted
everything as the will of an all merciful Father who could make even
the most incomprehensible and hardest things result in a blessing. "In
that she's like her mother, whose only defense and weapons against all
sorrow were silence and meditation. Go to her, dear Doctor, I know
she'll be delighted to see you. She always esteemed you so highly, and
God is my witness that I've often reproached myself for yielding to
Frau Valentin and interrupting your lessons. Doctor Marquard says the
sickness is connected with the mind--if she could but divert her
thoughts, and not brood perpetually over one idea--Ah! me! If
philosophy could give her sleep and appetite, preserve my child to
me--" He paused and pressed his handkerchief to his eyes.

"If you'll give me leave, dear Herr Koenig," said Edwin, "I'll try what
I can do. Philosophy has already banished many evil spirits and infused
new blood into whole races. I'll speak