its master sitting
with bowed head, brooding.

"Help us, Thou above--and help him most, he has had so much adversity in
these last days."

But the starry vault seems icy cold--it has heard the prayers of
millions and millions before--the hearts of men are nothing to the
universe.

Merle drooped her head and went in again to the house.

It was midnight when Peer drove up the hill towards his home. The
sight of the great house with its brilliantly lighted windows jarred so
cruelly on his wearied mind that he involuntarily gave the horse a cut
with his whip.

He flung the reins to the stable-boy who had come out with a lantern,
and walked up the steps, moving almost with a feeling of awe in this
great house, as if it already belonged to someone else.

He opened the door of the drawing-room--no one there, but light, light
and comfort. He passed through into the next room, and there sat Merle,
alone, in an armchair, with her head resting on the arm, asleep.

Had she been waiting so long?

A wave of warmth passed through him; he stood still, looking at her; and
presently her bowed figure slowly straightened; her pale face relaxed
into a smile. Without waking her, he went on into the nursery, where
the lights were still burning. But here the lights shone only on three
little ones, lying in their clean night-clothes, asleep.

He went back to the dining-room; more lights, and a table laid for
two, a snowy cloth and flowers, and a single carnation stuck into his
napkin--that must be from Louise--little Louise.

At last Merle was awakened by the touch of his hand on her shoulder.

"Oh, are you there?"

"Good-evening, Merle!" They embraced, and he kissed her forehead. But
she could see that his mind was busy with other things.

They sat down to table, and began their meal. She could read the
expression of his face, his voice, his calm air--she knew they meant bad
news.

But she would not question him. She would only try to show him that all
things else could be endured, if only they two loved each other.

But the time had passed when an unexpected caress from her was enough
to send him wild with joy. She sat there now trembling inwardly with
suspense, wondering if he would notice her--if he could find any comfort
in having her with him, still young and with something of her beauty
left.

He looked over to her with a far-away smile. "Merle," he asked, "what do
you think your father is worth altogether?" The wor