dairy-farm in your neighborhood prepared for a small suite.

"This year, we shall walk together, on Goethe's birthday.

"But my letter is long enough already, and I shall not begin another
sheet. If, as I am willing to admit, you really possess a power over
your native mountains, let them be bright and cloudless, while
welcoming to you and yours, your friend,

"MATHILDE.

"Postscript.--Bronnen has visited you. He had much to tell me, and when
I inquired about your youngest daughter, his features seemed to betray
his emotion. Was I mistaken? Remember me to your wife and children. I
trust that the queen's presence will not embarrass them."

CHAPTER III.

It seems as if, even in the quietest life, there are days in which the
whole world has, as it were, agreed that visits and interruptions
should never cease.

Gunther was in his room, and had scarcely had time to compose himself,
after reading the queen's letter. It was evident, he thought, that the
king designed to bring about a reconciliation between himself and his
consort, through the agency of the dismissed friend. Gunther was
willing to aid him in this, but not to have the even tenor of his life
interfered with. The queen's hint in regard to Bronnen accorded with
his own observations, and just then he could hear Paula singing--for
the first time this year by the open window--and her voice seemed
expressive of a bridal moon. He felt that Paula deserved to be happy,
and that her marriage with his exalted friend would best promote the
happiness of both. But he was firmly resolved, even in that event,
never again to leave his birthplace.

Buried in thought, Gunther was sitting in his room.

The servant announced the freeholder's wife.

"No--Walpurga!" cried a voice, and before the servant could bring the
answer, Walpurga had entered the room.

"Ah, dear Doctor, you're our neighbor! I heard, only a minute ago, that
you were living here, and it's scarcely four hours' walk from our farm.
Yes, that's the way people live hereabouts: alone and away from each
other, just as if one were dead."

She offered her hand to Gunther, but he was busily engaged in gathering
up some papers, and inquired:

"Does your mother still live?"

"Alas! no. Oh, if she had only lived to see Doctor Gunther once more!
Who knows whether she wouldn't be living yet, if we could have called
you when she was sick