ud and
erect. A deep emotion was evident in his noble features, and he raised
his beaming, radiant face to heaven, thanking God in the humbleness of
his heart for the proud joy of this hour.

"Long live Gotzkowsky, our father!" reiterated the happy multitude.

He lowered his eyes, and glanced with friendly looks at the cheerful
assemblage.

"Thank you, my children," said he, "but I beg you not to overrate my
merits. You are of as much service to me as I am to you. He who gives
work is nothing without the worker; the one has need of the other, to
increase and thrive. Of what avail would my looms and my money be if
I had not your industrious hands and your good will to serve me? Money
alone will not do it, but the good will and love of the workmen carry
the day. I thank you all for your good will and your love; but above
all," continued he, turning to Bertram, "above all things I must thank
you, my friend. You have stood by me and helped me bravely, and it is
full time that I should try to reward you. Children, one more surprise
have I in reserve for you to-day. I appoint Mr. Bertram my partner
and sole director of the silk factory." "That's right, that's noble!"
cried the workmen.

Bertram said nothing. He only turned his eyes, clouded with tears,
toward Gotzkowsky, and the latter read in his looks his deep emotion
and affectionate gratitude.

"My son," said he, opening his arms.

"My father, oh my dear, noble father," cried the young man, throwing
himself, with streaming eyes, on Gotzkowsky's breast. The workmen
stood round, deeply moved, and in silence; and in their hearts they
sent up quiet prayers to God on high for their employer. At last
Gotzkowsky raised himself from Bertram's arms and sought his daughter
with his eyes. She was still sitting, silent and pensive, at the
table, and did not appear to have observed what was going on around
her. A light cloud crossed his brow as he took Bertram's hand and
approached Elise.

"Well, Elise, have you no word of congratulation for him?"

She shuddered, as if awaking from a dream. "Oh," said she, "my good
brother Bertram knows that I rejoice in his fortune."

"Brother! still brother?" murmured Gotzkowsky impatiently.

"And why should she not give me that sweet name?" asked Bertram,
quickly. "Have you not often called me son, and allowed me to call you
father?"

"Oh, I would like indeed to be your father, my son, without Elise's
having to call you brother. But