d known her during
the whole of her short life; had baptized her, and with him she had
taken her first communion. She had confessed to him her most secret
thoughts, and with loving smile, he absolved what she deemed her sins.
He would not break the seal of confession, and she therefore opened her
heart to him without fear.

The old pastor was deeply moved, and laying his hand upon her head he
wept. When she had bid him a long and loving adieu, and had wiped the
tears from her eyes, she left the parsonage and hastened to the woods,
where Father Buschman was tending his sheep. As soon as the old shepherd
saw her, he beckoned to her his welcome.

"I did not see you throughout the whole of yesterday, Anna Sophia," said
he, "and my heart was heavy within me; there was something wanting to my
happiness."

"I will remain with you to-day to make up for yesterday's absence," said
she, seating herself beside him and kissing him tenderly. "I could not
work to-day, for my heart aches; I will rest myself with you."

"Your heart aches because Charles Henry must leave us," said the old
shepherd. "You would prefer his remaining at home, and not being a
soldier?"

"No, I would not prefer this, father," said she, earnestly; "would you?"

The old man looked thoughtful for some time, then said:

"It will be a great sorrow to me, Anna Sophia, for he is the last
remaining light of my youth, and when he goes all will be dark and
gloomy for me. It does me good to see his bright, handsome face; to hear
his gay morning and evening song; and when you two are sitting beside me
hand in hand upon the old bench at the front of our little hut, my youth
comes back to me. I see myself sitting on the same bench with my dear
old woman--it was our favorite seat when we were young. When Charles
Henry leaves me, I not only lose him, but my whole past life seems to
vanish away."

"You would, therefore, prefer he should remain at home?" said Anna,
anxiously.

"If it were possible," said he, "but it is not. His king has called him,
he must obey."

"But he may, perhaps, be allowed to stay, father, if you will declare
that you are too old, too weak to support yourself, and wish the only
prop of your old age to remain with you, the authorities at Cleve may,
perhaps, grant your request."

The old shepherd shook his head slowly and thoughtfully, and said:

"No, we will not make the attempt; it would be deception, and could
bring us no honor. I am not