ant festivities. Nat expected to enjoy himself very
much, and did at first; for a German Christmas is a spectacle worth
seeing. But he paid dearly for the abandon with which he threw himself
into the gaieties of that memorable week; and on New Year's Day the
reckoning came. It seemed as if some malicious fairy had prepared the
surprises that arrived, so unwelcome were they, so magical the change
they wrought, turning his happy world into a scene of desolation and
despair as suddenly as a transformation at the pantomime.

The first came in the morning when, duly armed with costly bouquets
and bon-bons, he went to thank Minna and her mother for the braces
embroidered with forget-me-nots and the silk socks knit by the old
lady's nimble fingers, which he had found upon his table that day. The
Frau Mamma received him graciously; but when he asked for the daughter
the good lady frankly demanded what his intentions were, adding that
certain gossip which had reached her ear made it necessary for him
to declare himself or come no more, as Minna's peace must not be
compromised.

A more panic-stricken youth was seldom seen than Nat as he received this
unexpected demand. He saw too late that his American style of gallantry
had deceived the artless girl, and might be used with terrible effect
by the artful mother, if she chose to do it. Nothing but the truth could
save him, and he had the honour and honesty to tell it faithfully. A
sad scene followed; for Nat was obliged to strip off his fictitious
splendour, confess himself only a poor student, and humbly ask pardon
for the thoughtless freedom with which he had enjoyed their too
confiding hospitality. If he had any doubts of Frau Schomburg's motives
and desires, they were speedily set at rest by the frankness with which
she showed her disappointment, the vigour with which she scolded him,
and the scorn with which she cast him off when her splendid castles in
the air collapsed.

The sincerity of Nat's penitence softened her a little and she consented
to a farewell word with Minna, who had listened at the keyhole, and was
produced drenched in tears, to fall on Nat's bosom, crying: 'Ah, thou
dear one, never can I forget thee, though my heart is broken!'

This was worse than the scolding; for the stout lady also wept, and it
was only after much German gush and twaddle that he escaped, feeling
like another Werther; while the deserted Lotte consoled herself with the
bonbons, her moth