ad hitherto prevented, and now that the Parliament
was no longer in session, Weidmann had left the capital without any
closer relation having been formed between them.

Weeks passed away in trembling suspense. The sick boy's wandering
fancies took a wholly new direction. He imagined himself with Manna,
and was constantly talking to her, caressing her, jesting with her, and
teasing her about the picture of Saint Anthony. Manna had not been told
of her brother's illness; it seemed useless to burden her with anxiety,
when she could do nothing to help.

Sonnenkamp continued to be greatly vexed that there was nothing to be
done but to wait for the forces of nature. He sent considerable sums of
money to the poor of the capital and to all the charitable
institutions; he reminded Eric of what he had told him of the teachers'
union, and handed him a handsome sum for the furthering of the objects
of the association.

One day he asked the Professorin if it were not possible that prayer
might help the sick. She replied that she knew no positive answer to
such a question, that Sonnenkamp must compose himself, and be glad if
he could cherish such a beautiful faith. He looked sadly at her.

Roland talked so constantly with his sister, that Sonnenkamp asked the
physician if Manna had not better be sent for, and was delighted at
receiving an affirmative answer.

It was a comfort to him in the midst of his duties, to think that now
he could force his child from the convent, and never let her leave him
more. His heart rejoiced in the prospect of being able to have both his
children with him, when Roland was well again. He walked up and down
the room, rapidly opening and shutting his hands, as if he were leading
his children by his side.

The careful Lootz was despatched to the convent with an urgent letter
enclosing the doctor's directions, to which he would gladly have added
a few words of the Professorin; but she was resolved to interfere in no
possible way of Manna's plan of life, even in a case of extreme
necessity, and refused to write.

CHAPTER VIII.

A SISTER OUTSIDE THE FAMILY.

Snow lay upon the roof of the convent, and upon the trees, meadows, and
roads of the island; but within the great house was an animated twofold
life, for the whole sacred narrative was here rehearsed afresh in the
minds and before the eyes of the children. Every day were recalled
those m