short a time acquainted; but with the question Angela came before his
mind as an answer. He rejected this answer, even against his feelings,
and declared to himself that Siegwart's honorable character and
neighborly feeling made his haste natural and even obligatory. The
proprietor may have been waiting his arrival, for he came out to meet
him. Frank observed a dark cloud over the countenance of the man and
great anxiety in his features.

"I beg your forgiveness a thousand times, Herr Frank. I know you go
walking with Herr Klingenberg at this hour, and I have deprived you of
that pleasure."

"No excuse, neighbor. It is a question which would give me greater
pleasure, to serve you or to walk with Klingenberg."

Richard smiled while saying these words; but the smile died away, for
he saw how pale and suddenly anxious Siegwart had become. They had
entered a room, and he desired to know the cause of Siegwart's changed
manner.

"A great and afflicting misfortune threatens us," began the proprietor.
"My Eliza has been suddenly taken ill, and I have great fears for her
young life. Oh! if you knew how that child has grown into my heart." He
paused for a moment and suppressed his grief, but he could not hide
from Frank the tears that filled his eyes. Richard saw these tears, and
this paternal grief increased his respect for Siegwart.

"The delicate life of a young child does not allow of protracted
medical treatment, of consultation or investigation into the disease or
the best remedies. The disease must be known immediately and efficient
remedies applied. There are physicians at my command, but I do not dare
to trust Eliza to them."

"I presume, Herr Siegwart, that you wish for Klingenberg."

"Yes--and through your mediation. You know that he only treats the sick
poor; but resolutely refuses his services to the wealthy."

"Do not be uneasy about that. I hope to be able to induce Klingenberg
to correspond with your wishes. But is Eliza really so sick, or does
your apprehension increase your anxiety?"

"I will show you the child, and then you can judge for yourself." They
went up-stairs and quietly entered the sick-room. Angela sat on the
little bed of the child, reading. The child was asleep, but the noise
of their entrance awoke her. She reached out her little round arms to
her father, and said in a scarcely audible whisper,

"Papa--papa!"

This whispered "papa" seemed to pierce the soul of Siegwart like a
knife.