so desolate and
dead! The arm-chair stood with outspread arms, waiting. Lenz leaned on
the back of it and wept bitterly. Then he got up and tried to go to her
chamber. "It is impossible you are not there," he said, half aloud. The
sound of his own voice startled him. He sank exhausted into the chair
where his mother had so often rested.

At last he took courage and entered the deserted chamber.

"Have you not forgotten something that I ought to have sent after you?"
he said again. With an inward shudder he opened his mother's chest,
into which he had never looked. It seemed almost a sacrilege to look
now, but he did. Perhaps she had left a word or a token for him. He
found the christening presents of his dead brothers and sisters tied up
in separate parcels and marked with their names; his own lay among
them. There were some old coins, his mother's confirmation dress, her
bridal wreath,--dried, but carefully preserved,--her garnet ornaments,
and in a little box by itself, wrapped in five thicknesses of fine
paper, a little white, velvety plant, labelled in his mother's
handwriting. The son read at first under his breath, then half aloud,
as if wishing to hear his mother's words, "This is a little plant
Edelweiss--"

"Here is something to eat," suddenly cried a voice through the open
door.

It was only old Franzl calling, but it startled Lenz like the voice of
a spirit.

"Coming," he answered, shut the door hastily, bolted it, and restored
everything carefully to its former place before going into the
sitting-room, where old Franzl was indulging in many a solemn shake of
the head at this mystery which she was not permitted to share.

CHAPTER III.

WORK AND BENEFACTION.

The bailiff, Lenz's nearest neighbor, though not a very near one, had
sent in food, as was the custom in that part of the country when a
death occurred, in the supposition that the mourners might not have
thought of preparing any. Moreover, during a funeral, and for three
hours after, no fire was allowed to be kindled on the hearth.

The bailiff's daughter brought the food into the room herself.

"Thanks to you and your parents, Katharine. Take away the food; when I
am hungry, I will eat; I cannot now," said Lenz.

"But you must try," said Franzl; "that is the custom; you must put
something to your lips. Sit down, Katharine; you should always sit down
when you visit a mourner, n