ould mantle his
cheeks, and his eyes would involuntarily gaze into the far distance,
when some difficult problem, which had hitherto eluded his grasp,
became clear to his mental vision. At such moments, he would, as if
impelled by an inner force, rise from his seat, and his chest would
heave with emotion, at the thought that he was laying bare the secret
springs of character and habit, with as much indifference to side
considerations as if he were engaged on a physiological preparation.

The view from Gunther's windows, each of which consisted of a single
plate of glass, extended to the distant mountains. Far up the heights,
there was a small clearing, scarcely visible to the naked eye. Naught
was noticeable but a small break in the woods, and, although it was
known that the freehold lay there, its broad acres were out of sight.
Irma had been sitting up there, working and brooding over her troubles,
for nearly four years, while Gunther, in the mean while, had been
sitting at his oaken table, writing his "Contributions to the Science
of Life." His glance often rested on the distant heights, but he little
dreamt that, while he was calmly gathering the fruits of his
experience, another soul up there was spending its strength in the vain
endeavor to solve the enigma of life.

When he dwelt on the difficulty of assigning to nature and education
their relative share in determining conduct and character, hundreds of
varied pictures would present themselves to his imagination. In all
these investigations, the dead and living were as one. The only
question he asked himself was: To what extent do they exemplify the
eternal idea? Eberhard's form would often appear to him; sometimes, in
all the dewy freshness of youth; at others, in its last, sad aspect.
Irma was also summoned by the spirit of knowledge and, although never
mentioned by name, was made to illustrate the present disturbed state
of the public mind.

That day, many of Gunther's thoughts had been of Irma.

There was a gentle knock at the door. His grandchild entered, and
Gunther's countenance brightened at the sight of her. For hours, his
thoughts had been of grand abstractions, of past memories, and of
general laws, and now, blithe and cheerful childhood saluted him. He
went into the sitting-room with his granddaughter.

The family seated themselves at the table. Letters and newspapers were
left untouched until after the meal was finished.

"Did Adolph set out pu