ealth and recognize its power. Besides, she is a cruel,
egotistical daughter; who has no pity for her poor parents, and is
capable of seeing them perish for her foolish attachment. I will
make her a good child, and force her to make her parents, and thereby
herself, happy.' All this I said to myself, and I have acted and shall
act accordingly. I have only to add that the ceremony will take place
to-morrow, at eleven. We will leave immediately after. Have the goodness
therefore to choose in which direction, that I may at once make the
necessary arrangements."

"Lost--lost without hope!" cried Marie, in anguish, covering her face
with her hands.

"Rather say rescued from misfortune," answered Ebenstreit, quietly.
"Believe me, there is but one sorrow that may not be borne, may not be
conquered, and that is poverty, which is a corroding, consuming malady,
annihilating body, and soul, swifter and surer than the most subtle
poison. It stifles all noble feelings, all poetical thoughts and great
deeds, and, believe me, love even cannot resist its terrible power. One
day you will understand this. I will be patient and indulgent, and await
it with hope."

"Oh, what a noble and high-minded man!" cried the mother, with
emphasis.--"Marie should kneel and thank her Maker for such a
magnanimous savior and lover, who will shield her from all evil and
misfortune."

Sobbing and sighing, the daughter had stood with her face concealed;
now she regarded the cold-hearted, smiling woman, with flashing eyes and
keen contempt.

"Thank him!" she cried; "no, I accuse, I curse him. He is an atheist,
and denies love. He is not capable of a noble thought or action,
scorning and defaming all that is beautiful and elevated, worshipping
only mammon. I will never marry him. You may force me to the altar, and
there I will denounce him."

"She will kill me," cried the general; "she will murder her aged
parents, leaving them to starve and perish, and--"

"Silence!" commanded his wife. "Leave off your complaints, she is not
worth the tears or remonstrances of her parents. She would try to be
our murderess, but she shall not.--My son, inform her of your decision.
Answer her."

"The response to your romantic language is simple and natural, my dear
Marie. I have already entered into your feelings, and am prepared for
this idea of refusing your lover at the altar, which is found in novels,
and I supposed that it might occur to you. Money compasses al