the feelings
of a man in my situation, than to doubt his natural affection."

"As he has never been the parent of an only daughter, father," answered
the smiling Adelheid, for, in her present mood, smiles came easily, "he
may not have felt or anticipated all that thou imagin'st. He knew the
prejudices of the world on the subject of noble blood, and they are few
indeed, that, having much, are disposed to part with it to him who hath
little."

"The lad reasoned more like an old miser than a young soldier, and I have
a great mind to let him feel my displeasure for thinking so meanly of me.
Have we not Willading, with all its fair lands, besides our rights in the
city, that we need go begging money of others, like needy mendicants! Thou
hast been in the conspiracy against my character, girl, or such a fear
could not have either uneasiness for a moment."

"I never thought, father, that thou would'st reject him on account of
poverty, for I knew our own means sufficient for all our own wants; but I
did believe that he who could not boast the privileges of nobility might
fail to gain thy favor."

"Are we not a republic?--is not the right of the buergerschaft the one
essential right in Berne--why should I raise obstacles about that on which
the laws are silent?"

Adelheid listened, as a female of her years would be apt to listen to
words so grateful, with a charmed ear; and yet she shook her head, in a
way to express an incredulity that was not altogether free from
apprehension.

"For thy generous forgetfulness of old opinions in behalf of my happiness,
dearest father," she resumed, the tears starting unbidden to her
thoughtful blue eye, "I thank thee fervently. It is true that we are
inhabitants of a republic, but we are not the less noble."

"Dost thou turn against thyself, and hunt up reasons why I should not do
that which thou hast just acknowledged to be so necessary to prevent thee
from following thy brothers and sisters to their early graves?"

The blood rushed in a torrent to the face of Adelheid, for though, weeping
and in the moment of tender confidence which succeeded her thanksgivings
for the baron's safety, she had thrown herself on his bosom, and confessed
that the hopelessness of the sentiments with which she met the declared
love of Sigismund was the true cause of the apparent malady that had so
much alarmed her friends, the words which had flowed spontaneously from
her heart, in so tender a scene, had