at the marks of unhappiness which
characterized the social relations of life and of men.

The gorgeous fabric of the ideal had sunk into ashes before him.
Occasionally a fervent prayer would lift him above the jars and
discords of earthly being; but even into these heavenly arcana would
the misgiving of an insufficiency pursue him: he was very unhappy.
People took his disordered air for a mark of over-application. It stung
him to the soul when his mother begged him not to study too hard: he
could not explain to her what troubled him; it was not even clear to
himself. Thus, in the fulness of youth and health, he felt tired of
life and weary of the earth: he had not mastered the riddle of
existence, and fancied that death was the only solution.

In his last vacation before going to Tuebingen, he experienced a heavy
loss: he no longer found Nat in the house. Mag, having overcome the
opposition of her father, had married Xavier and gone with him to
America. There was thus a lack of female help about the house, and
Valentine's sons were old enough to do the field-work themselves. Nat
was discharged: no one knew whither he had gone: the pigeon-cote was
empty, and the beasts in the stable seemed to share Ivo's sorrow for
his departed friend.

[Illustration: Emmerence had grown up to be a strong, hearty girl.]

On the other hand, Emmerence now lived in the house as
maid-of-all-work. She had grown up to be a strong, hearty girl, a
little short and square in figure,--what is usually called "buxom:" she
would have been classed with the comelier half of the village girls. It
was long since Ivo had bestowed any attention upon her, so entirely had
Clement occupied his heart. Whole vacations had passed without his even
exchanging a word with her. Now he sometimes eyed her askance, but
always turned away the moment she detected him. Once only, when he
found her so cheerfully engaged in the stable, he said, "That's right
in you, Emmerence, to take good care of the cattle: only don't forget
the dun and the cow."

"I know they're your favorites," she replied; "I'm so glad you haven't
given up liking them." And, as if to wake a reminiscence of his
childhood, she sang, while filling the cow's manger,--

"Far up on the hill is a white, white horse,
A horse as white as snow;
He'll take the little boys that are good little boys
To where they want to go.

"The little boys and the good little boys