n
he gazed into her faithful eyes, when her hand touched him, her soft,
deep voice penetrated the depths of his soul, an unexampled sense of
happiness filled his breast.

Everything, from the least to the greatest, embraced his soul with the
arms of love. It seemed as if the ardent yearning of his heart extended
far beyond the earth, and rose to God, who fills the universe with
His infinite paternal love. His every breath, Ulrich thought, must
henceforth be a prayer, a prayer of gratitude to Him, who is love
itself, the Love, through and in which he lived.

He had sought love, to enjoy its gifts; now he was glad to make
sacrifices for its sake. He saw how Ruth's beautiful face saddened
when he was suffering, and with manly strength of will concealed
inexpressible agony under a grateful smile. He feigned sleep, to permit
her and his father to rest, and when tortured by feverish restlessness,
lay still to give his beloved nurses pleasure and repay their
solicitude. Love urged him to goodness, gave him strength for all that
is good. His convalescence advanced and, when he was permitted to leave
his bed, his father was the first one to support him through the room
and down the steps into the court-yard. He often felt with quiet emotion
the old man stroke the hand that rested on his arm, and when, exhausted,
he returned to the sick-room, he sank with a grateful heart into his
comfortable seat, casting a look of pleasure at the flowers, which Ruth
had taken from her chamber window and placed on the table beside him.

His family now knew what he had endured and experienced, and the smith
found a kind, soothing word for all that, a few months before, he had
considered criminal and unpardonable.

During such a conversation, Ulrich once exclaimed "War! You know not how
it bears one along with it; it is a game whose stake is life. That of
others is of as little value as your own; to do your worst to every one,
is the watchword; but now--every thing has grown so calm in my soul,
and I have a horror of the turmoil in the field. I was talking with Ruth
yesterday about her father, and she reminded me of his favorite saying,
which I had forgotten long ago. Do you know what it is? 'Do unto others,
as ye would that others should do unto you.' I have not been cruel, and
never drew the sword out of pleasure in slaying; but now I grieve for
having brought woe to so many!

"What things were done in Haarlem! If you had moved there instea