ou not to be offended if
I leave you to-day."

"Leave us!" cried the merchant. "I see no reason for such haste. You can
recruit here; the ladies must take better care of you than hitherto.
Wohlfart complains of you, Sabine. He looks pale and worn. You and our
cousin must not allow that."

Sabine did not answer a word.

"I must go, Mr. Schroeter," said Anton, decidedly. "To-morrow I set out."

"And will you not at least tell your friends the reason of so hasty a
departure?" said the merchant, gravely.

"You know the reason. I have done with my past. Hitherto I have ill
provided for my future; for I am about to seek and win, in some
subordinate situation, the confidence and good opinion of strangers. I
have become, too, very poor in friends. I must separate for years from
all I love. I have some cause to feel alone, and since I must needs
begin life again, it is best to do so as soon as possible, for every day
that I spend here is fruitless, and only makes my strength less, the
necessary parting harder." He spoke in deep emotion, his voice
trembling, but he did not lose his self-control. Then going up to
Sabine, he took her hand. "In this last hour I tell you, in the presence
of your brother, what it can not offend you to hear, for you have known
it long. Parting from you pains me more than I can say. Farewell!" And
now he fairly broke down, and turned to the window.

After a pause the merchant said, "Your sudden departure, dear Wohlfart,
will be inconvenient to my sister as well as to me. Sabine was anxious
to request such a service from you as a merchant's sister is likely to
require. I, too, wish very much that you should not refuse her. Sabine
begs that you will look over some papers for her. It will be no great
task."

Anton turned, and made a deprecating gesture.

"Before you decide, listen to a fact that you have probably not known
before," continued the merchant. "Ever since my father's death, Sabine
has secretly been my partner, and her advice and opinion has decided
matters in our counting-house oftener than you think. She, too, has been
your principal, dear Wohlfart." He made a sign to his sister, and left
the room.

Anton looked in amazement at the principal in white muslin, with black
braided hair. For years, then, he had served and obeyed the youthful
figure which now blushingly approached him.

"Yes, Wohlfart," said Sabine, timidly, "I, too, have had a small hold
upon your life. And how proud I