"My dear friend," said the old man with a broken voice, "my good
gentle Edward, will you conduct the stranger lady to the inn; but at
the same time take along with you four thousand dollars in gold and
bills out of my strong-box. No human being however, I trust and charge
you, must know of this affair, least of all Eleazar. Only conceive,
the savage has left three letters of the highest importance from this
poor woman to me without an answer. His not shewing them to me I can
forgive, since on that point he has full powers from me."

His wishes were executed, and the stranger set off again in the
afternoon in better spirits, without paying her old friend another
visit.

* * * * *

The next day Balthasar sent Edward a summons to his room. When he had
lockt the door he began: "You are the only person entrusted with a
circumstance and a connexion, which agitated me so deeply yesterday
that I was unable to tell you anything about it. As however I look
upon you quite in the light of my son, I feel myself bound to disclose
something more of myself and my story to you, than any mortal man has
ever yet heard."

They sat down: the old man gave his young friend his hand, which the
latter prest cordially, and then said: "You cannot doubt my affection
and friendship; and what you confide to me will in my hands be as
secret as in the silent grave."

"I have watcht you this long time," said the old man, "and know you
well. Hitherto we have had but little talk together; I am now forced
to change and break through my usage with regard to you, and I am
anxious besides that there should be a being who knows and understands
me."

Edward's curiosity was roused; and the old man went on with a
tremulous voice: "I am still so much moved, my whole frame is still so
much disordered by yesterday's shock, that you must have patience with
my weakness. That my life is a cheerless one, that I have long
renounced all those recreations and enjoyments, which are in fact the
only things most men live for, you must long ago have remarkt. From my
youth up I have got out of the way of pleasure, with a feeling which I
might almost call dread. Educated by a rigid father, who lived in the
greatest penury, my childhood and youth were merely suffering and
sorrow. When I grew bigger, my ripening understanding only enabled me
more distinctly to perceive the misery of my parents and the
wretchedness of the whole earth.