on with regard to him, but now he had received
favors, received a gift of money, and had lost his independence.

His mother listened patiently to the end, and then asked,--

"Do you hesitate to accept this gift because it comes from Herr
Sonnenkamp? Why not as readily or as reluctantly as from any one else,
from Clodwig, for instance?"

She put the question eagerly, thinking she perceived that Eric, as well
is herself, was aware of Sonnenkamp's past life; but she was soon
assured that he had no suspicion of it, by his replying,--

"Friendship gives differently, and makes it seem hardly a gift; from a
friend like Clodwig, I could accept anything."

His mother told him he should consider that the money came from Roland,
whose coming of age was only anticipated. But that idea troubled Eric
too: it made him feel that he was sent away, paid off; the account was
squared between them. His mother reminded him, for his consolation,
that no outward pay could compensate for the labor, the burning cheek,
the trembling nerves, the planning and thinking by day and by night,
which the education of a human being requires. Finally, Eric confessed
that it mortified him to have to accept presents before Pranken, and
Manna too, the daughter of the house.

"Pranken and Manna are one," answered his mother, "she is his
betrothed. But take comfort; look back over the past year, and you will
see that you have developed in your pupil a character which nothing can
undermine."

This thought finally enabled Eric to rise above all his depression, and
when he left his mother's house he had spirit enough to exclaim:--

"Look at Eric, old Father Rhine; he is become an independent man, and
can live upon his interest till he is seventy-seven years old!"

He met Roland and the Major returning from their round of visits. It
was not for nothing that the Major carried always two watches about
with him, one of which he called his _galloper_ because it was always
fast; the only difficulty was, he could never tell whether he had put
the galloper in his right or left pocket; however, he was on hand again
punctually at dinner-time.

Roland sat at the richly furnished table, but tasted scarcely a morsel.

"I am so full," he said to Eric, "so full of the great happiness I have
given to-day. And you--are you not happy too?"

Eric could truly say he was.

There was some discussion as to who should propose the customary toast
for Roland; whether it was