and stroked it. "Now thou art my own kind son once more," said he, with
emotion; "now thou wilt not speak such wicked words again, or quarrel
with me about this baron."

Bernhard snatched his hand away.

"I will not press him; I will have patience about the interest," said
Ehrenthal, beseechingly, trying to recover his son's hand.

"Ah! it is useless to speak to him!" cried Bernhard, in deepest
distress; "he does not even understand my words."

"I will understand every thing," gasped out Ehrenthal, "if you will only
give me back your hand."

"Will you relinquish your plan about the estate?" asked Bernhard.

"Speak not of the estate," besought the old man.

"In vain!" murmured Bernhard, turning away and hiding his face in his
hands.

Ehrenthal sat by him annihilated and sighing deeply. "Hear me, my son,"
said he, at length; "I will see if I can not get him another estate that
he can buy with his remaining means. Do you hear me, my son Bernhard?"

"Go!" cried Bernhard, without anger, but with the energy of intense
grief. "Go, and leave me alone!"

Ehrenthal rose and left the room, walking up and down vehemently in the
next, wringing his hands, and talking to himself. Then he opened the
door, approaching Bernhard's bed, and asked, in a piteous voice, "Wilt
thou not give me thy hand, my son?" But Bernhard lay silent, with
averted face.

It was with a beating heart that Anton, two days later, gave his name to
the baron's servant.

"Wohlfart!" cried the baron, and the recollection of the letter returned
disagreeably to him; "bring him in." He met Anton's low bow rather
coolly. "I am obliged to you," said he, "for a letter lately received,
and you must excuse my having, on account of much business on hand, left
it unanswered."

"If," began Anton, "I now take the liberty of calling with reference to
the same subject, I implore you not to look upon it as intrusive. I come
here charged with a message from a friend of mine who feels the most
devoted respect for you and your family. He is the son of Ehrenthal the
merchant. He himself is prevented from waiting upon you by illness, and
therefore implores you, through me, to make use of the influence he
possesses with his father. In the event of your thinking it probable
that he may be of use, may I request you to communicate your wishes to
him?"

The baron listened eagerly. Now, when every thing forsook him upon which
he had himself relied, strangers began to inte