d of thanks from the little mouth. The child,
however, cannot enjoy herself to the full until he has gone, for, in
spite of his friendliness, his tall figure has something so grave and
solemn about it that her joy is usually swallowed up in respect.
During the week Herr Nettenmair sits over his books and letters, or
superintends the packing and unpacking, the chipping and sorting of
the slate. Punctually at twelve o'clock he has his dinner in his room,
punctually at six his evening meal; this takes a quarter of an hour.
Then, rubbing his hand gently over the old sofa, he rises and, if it
is summer time, exercises for three-quarters of an hour in his garden.
On the stroke of a quarter to one and a quarter to seven he latches
the door behind him. On Sunday it is different; then he sits for a
whole hour in the arbor and gazes up at the church roof of St.
George's. There is little for us to tell; the reader knows all that
goes on in Nettenmair's soul, and what he reads from the church tower.
The reader also knows to whom the aged but still beautiful face
belongs that sometimes peers through the trellised arbor at the old
man. The lock which is now white was dark brown and full, falling over
an unwrinkled forehead, the cheeks glowed with youthful strength, the
lips were red and smiling and the blue eyes gleamed when she hastened
to meet the man who had rescued the town. He kissed her gently on the
brow and called her "Sister." She understood what he meant. Even at
that time she looked up to the man with the submission, nay, the
devotion with which she now hangs on his every word; but at that time
there was another feeling as well that showed itself in her open
countenance.

The old gentleman flew into a rage when Apollonius told him of his
determination not to marry. He gave his son his choice between
considering the honor of the family or returning to Cologne.
Apollonius' heart found it harder than his head to convince his father
that it devolved upon him alone to uphold the honor of the family and
that he must remain. He knew that he could keep his word only by
remaining true to his determination. But he could not tell his father
this, for if the old man should discover the true relation existing
between the two young people he would insist upon the marriage more
strongly than ever. Then he would also have to tell him how his
brother had met his death, and that would cause his father unnecessary
pain. He did not realize t