and dark, not at all like a day of good
fortune. Anna Maria stood at the open window in the sitting-room,
breathing in the warm air, which was unusually sultry for a November
day. She had a stunted white rose in her hand. 'See, aunt,' she said,
holding the flower up to me, 'I found it early this morning on the
rose-bush on mother's grave; how could it have bloomed now? We have had
such cold weather lately, it is almost a miracle, like a greeting for
the day.' And she took a glass and carefully put the awkward little rose
in fresh water, and carried it to her room.

"In the mail-bag which came at noon there was, beside a letter for
Susanna from Klaus, also one for Anna Maria from him concerning
arrangements for the longer absence of the master of the house. 'Since I
do not know how long I shall be away with Susanna,' he wrote, 'and since
I probably shall not find time in the short stop at home to talk this
over quietly with you, I have written down for you about how I think
this and that will be best arranged.' Various arrangements of a domestic
nature now followed. 'If any alteration seems necessary to you,' he
continued, 'do as you please; I know it will be right. The furnishing of
Susanna's rooms can be attended to during our absence. I should be very
grateful to you if you would sometimes have an eye upon the work, that
the nest for my little wife may be as comfortable as possible. In her
last letter she told me a great deal about Stuermer's furnishings, and I
have taken care to get something similar, at least, for her, as far as
it in any degree agrees with my own sober taste; the terrace is to be
re-paved, too. Now for the chief matter, my dear Anna Maria: on the
right hand, in the secret drawer of my writing-desk, lie the papers
which are necessary for the banns. Take them out and carry them to
Pastor Gruene; Susanna's baptismal certificate and marriage license,
which I had sent on from Berlin, will already be in his hands, as I am
sending them off with this letter. Remember me to the old man, and say
to him that he must not let us fall too roughly from the pulpit next
Sunday.'

"Anna Maria had given me the letter, and gone with her key-basket into
her brother's room. 'How will it be,' I whispered, looking over the long
columns of these domestic arrangements, 'when he has _her_ no longer? He
has been fearfully spoiled by her.' As I read about the banns, my old
aunt's head began to whirl like a mill-wheel with wh