trangely in the house, where all was usually so still,
because joy found but little room there.

Five weeks later, early on a bright morning, a four-horse team stood
before the smithy, packed with household goods and with Stephen's
tools, ready for the journey. Hallheimer, who had spent the night at
the smithy, was there, ready to receive the key. He was to sell the
blacksmith shop among the woods for Fausch. Now, for the first time in
many years, the blackened door of the workshop was closed, the shutters
were drawn over the dim windows, and the house already looked dark and
dead. Hallheimer stood on the road talking with the two teamsters who
were helping with the moving. Then Fausch, Cain and Katharine came out
of the door at the head of the steps. The early sunlight lay on the
broad stone platform, to which the steps led, and on which Cain and
Katharine were standing. The bright light also penetrated the dark,
forbidding passageway, the door of which Fausch was still holding open.
The heavy man with his scorched and wrinkled face stood in the full
brilliancy, and it seemed as if the dark and stubborn figure found it
hard to leave the gloomy and forbidding house where it had dwelt so
long.

Cain and Katharine had paused, with their backs toward the road, the
smith having detained them by a word. Hallheimer, who was looking up at
them, saw that they were stopping for something important; for they
stood for a moment leaning forward, as if the smith were saying
something to them that they found difficult to understand.

"You!" Stephen Fausch had called out to Cain, as he stepped across the
threshold. He might have left these words until the very last, because
they were not easy to say, and after his "You" it was some time before
the rest would come. He seemed to break off every word from within and
to drag it forth with difficulty. Finally he said: "So long as we are
going away--you may leave your name behind you. I--you may change your
name to Franz--for the future--it was my father's name--and he was an
honest man."

When he had with difficulty forced out these scanty words, he did not
wait for an answer, but turned at the threshold and closed the house
door. The long disused lock creaked under the pressure of his hard
fingers. Because he involuntarily made an effort with the key, the
others did not know that the dark flush that rose to his forehead, was
not merely a sign of bodily exertion, but that he was at the