ar, he exclaimed, as if no peril, but merely a foolish wish
had suggested the desire to roam:

"Yes, child, it is best here. Let us be content with what we have. We
will stay!--yes, we will stay!" Elizabeth drew a long breath, as if
relieved from an incubus, her brow became smooth, and it seemed as if the
dumb mouth joined the large upraised eyes in uttering an "Amen," that
came from the inmost depths of the heart.

Costa's soul was saddened and sorely troubled, when he returned to the
house and his writing-table. The old maid-servant, who had accompanied
him from Portugal, entered at the same time, and watched his
preparations, shaking her head. She was a small, crippled Jewess, a
grey-haired woman, with youthful, bright, dark eyes, and restless hands,
that fluttered about her face with rapid, convulsive gestures, while she
talked.

She had grown old in Portugal, and contracted rheumatism in the unusual
cold of the North, so even in Spring she wrapped her head in all the gay
kerchiefs she owned. She kept the house scrupulously neat, understood how
to prepare tempting dishes from very simple materials, and bought
everything she needed for the kitchen. This was no trifling matter for
her, since, though she had lived more than nine years in the black
Forest, she had learned few German words. Even these the neighbors
mistook for Portuguese, though they thought the language bore some
distant resemblance to German. Her gestures they understood perfectly.

She had voluntarily followed the doctor's father, yet she could not
forgive the dead man, for having brought her out of the warm South into
this horrible country. Having been her present master's nurse, she took
many liberties with him, insisting upon knowing everything that went on
in the household, of which she felt herself the oldest, and therefore the
most distinguished member; and it was strange how quickly she could hear
when she chose, spite of her muffled ears!

To-day she had been listening again, and as her master was preparing to
take his seat at the table and sharpen his goose-quill, she glanced
around to see that they were entirely alone; then approached, saying in
Portuguese:

"Don't begin that, Lopez. You must listen to me first."

"Must I?" he asked, kindly.

"If you don't choose to do it, I can go!" she answered, angrily. "To be
sure, sitting still is more comfortable than running."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Do you suppose yonder books are