d in Spain than
with her family at home. She thought of the boy's father sometimes with
bitter resentment, sometimes with quiet pity. Outward circumstances
rendered it easier for her to conceal these feelings, for Pyramus
attributed the melancholy mood which sometimes overpowered her to grief
for her father.

Her husband left the settlement of the business connected with her
inheritance solely to her. There were many letters to be written and, as
she had become unfamiliar with this art, Hannibal faithfully aided her.

Dr. Hiltner, of Ratisbon, to whom, in spite of his heretical belief, she
intrusted the legal business of the estate, acted wisely and promptly in
her behalf. Thus the sale of the house which she had purchased for the
dead man, and the disposal of her father's share in the Blomberg
business, brought her far more money than she had expected.

It seemed as though Fate desired to compensate her by outward prosperity
for the secret sorrow which, in spite of her husband's affectionate
solicitude and the thriving growth of her two boys, she could not shake
off.

In one respect she regarded the money which this winter brought her as a
genuine blessing, for it seemed to invite her to go to Ems and do all in
her power for the restoration of her voice. The hoarseness was now barely
perceptible in her speech, and Dr. Mathys, whom she visited in April,
encouraged her, and told her of really marvellous cures wrought by the
famous old springs.

When May came and the trees and shrubs in leafy Brussels adorned
themselves with new buds, she could not help thinking more frequently, as
usual in this month, of her wasted love and of the man for whom it had
bloomed and who had destroyed it. So she liked to pass through Lion
Street in her walks, for it led her by his house. She might easily meet
him again there, and she longed to see his face once more before the
departure for Spain, which would remove him from her sight forever.

And behold! One sunny noon he was borne toward her in a litter. She
stopped as though spellbound, bowing profoundly; her glance as he passed
met his, and he waved his emaciated hand--yes, she was not mistaken--he
waved it to her.

For an instant it seemed as if a crimson rose had bloomed in the midst of
winter snows. She had been as sure that he had not forgotten her as that
she herself had not ceased to think of him.

Now her confidence was, as it were, confirmed by letter and seal, and
this