ething
might be wrong.

"Not well!" groaned Eberhard, "not well? It would be well for me if
I--"

He got up and walked away.

A grief stricken mother can shed tears; a father cannot.

His head was bowed on his chest. He saw blooming roses; they should
have adorned her. He saw thorns; they should tear her brow. Anger and
grief struggled within him. Anger raged; grief wept. Anger would have
lent him giant strength, with which to destroy the world; but grief
crushed his very soul.

Suddenly he drew himself up, and, as if driven by the storm, ran down
the road, over the ditch and across the meadow,--only stopping when he
reached the apple-tree.

"This is the tree--you're decked with ruddy fruit--and she-- Woe is me!
life is pitiless!"

A deep cry of pain escaped him. The road laborer above, and the driver
who was waiting with the carriage below, heard him and ran to his help.
They found him lying on the ground, face downward. He was foaming at
the mouth and was unable to speak. They bore him into the castle.

CHAPTER III.

Throughout the capital, schools, offices, and workshops were closed.
With the exception of, now and then, a noisy group of men who soon
entered a large building and disappeared from view, the streets were
given over to women and children. It was election day. It seemed as if
the thousand and one diversified interests and sentiments that help to
make up the life of a city had converged to a single point--as if a
great soul were communing with itself. Although it was in broad
daylight, a wondrous silence rested upon the deserted streets.
Gunther's carriage had just come from Bruno's house, and now stopped at
the town-hall. The doctor alighted, went upstairs and gave in his vote.
In consideration of his being a physician in active practice, he was
allowed to vote before his turn. He returned to his carriage and drove
home, When he entered the sitting-room, his wife handed him a telegram
which had just been received. Gunther opened it.

"What's the matter?" exclaimed Madame Gunther, for she had never before
seen so great a change in her husband's face.

He handed her the telegram and she read:

"Count Eberhard Wildenort paralyzed. Deprived of speech. Send word to
son and daughter to come at once; if possible, you also.

"DOCTOR MANN, _District Physician_."

"You are going?" said Madame Gunther in an agitated, but scarcely