ook upon each other as opponents, and my
proposal, as it really is, prompted by self-love. My offer, then, is as
follows: The price of this estate, if reckoned at a sum that would
secure the baron from loss, would amount to more than a hundred and
sixty thousand dollars. I offer him the outside of what I consider its
present worth--that is, I will accept all its liabilities, and pay the
baron twenty thousand dollars in the course of twenty-four hours. Till
next Easter, I should wish to leave the castle in your hands, and to
remain here as your guest, if this could be arranged without
inconvenience. In point of fact, I should generally be absent, and in no
way burdensome to you."

Lenore looked wistfully in his face, which was at this moment hard as
that of a genuine Yankee; the remnant of her composure gave way, and she
burst into tears.

Fink quietly leaned back in his chair, and, without heeding her,
continued: "You see I offer you a loss, probably that of half of your
inheritance. The baron has been so precipitate in investing his capital
in this property that his family must needs suffer, for the market-price
of it, in its present state, would assuredly not exceed my offer. I
should be acting dishonorably if I disguised from you that, properly
cultivated, it would probably be worth twice as much in a few years'
time, but not, I am firmly convinced, under the baron's management. Had
Anton remained, it might have been possible, but that hope is over. I
will not conceal from you either that Wohlfart has even proposed to me
to occupy his situation."

Lenore, in the midst of her sobs, here made a deprecating gesture.

"I am glad," continued Fink, "that we are of the same mind on that
subject. I considered the proposal quite out of place, and rejected it
at once." He then stopped, and looked searchingly at the girl before
him, whose heart was torn by his words. He spoke harshly to her, he for
whose smile, whose kindly glance she would have done any thing. He
mentioned her father with ill-concealed contempt; his language was that
of a hard egotist; and yet his offer seemed a blessing in her helpless
condition, and with the second-sight of a loving heart she divined a
meaning in it that she did not fully understand, but which shone into
her abyss of sorrow like a distant ray of hope. However he might phrase
it, this offer proceeded from no ordinary motives; and her convulsive
sobs giving way to quiet tears, she tried to