sisters. When she
entered the room in astonishment, and they all kindly surrounded her,
offering their respective presents, and her sisters and mother showed
themselves so unusually loving, she was deeply affected, and her
agitation was the greater, the less she had expected this festival of
love.

"How new is this to me!" she exclaimed. "Alas! how little have I been
able to deserve this of you! Do you then indeed love me so? All these
presents, this brilliant display, this kind attention, how can I
requite it? I am so surprized, that you should all think so of a poor
thing like me, that I cannot even find words to thank you."

"Only love us with sincere affection," said her mother, cordially
embracing her, "do not keep so much apart from us, meet more tenderly
all our advances, do justice to our intentions and strive to enter into
our feelings and views; for we surely seek only what is good, we surely
wish only what is right. These humours of yours, my beloved child, your
froward temper, which estranges you from your friends and sisters, and
carries you into the arms of trifling persons, is a disease and
perversion of your character. You may and will perceive the truth as
soon as it is your serious purpose."

"I will amend," said the weeping daughter. "I promise it you from this
very hour, which so infinitely affects me."

All embraced and kissed her, and Dorothea, who had been long as it were
a stranger in her family, felt as if a new life had begun for her. She
looked searchingly at all, she caressed every one, she let the presents
be shown and explained to her; it seemed as though she had returned
from a long journey, and were now greeting her family after a painful
separation. "If I could but do anything for you all!" she exclaimed.

"If it is your serious will," answered her mother, "it is in your power
to-day to make all of us, and especially me, indescribably happy."

"Name it," cried Dorothea, "say what I am to do."

"If on this solemn day," proceeded the Baroness, "you would at last
give your long-refused consent, if you would this day bless with your
plighted word our friend Wallen, whom you yesterday mortified in so
improper a manner."

Dorothea turned pale, and shrank back aghast. "Is this what you
require?" said she faultering; "I thought on that subject I had once
for all made my declaration."

"Your passionate mood," said the mother, "cannot pass for a rational
resolution. You love no man, as