comes. I never saw such
a change in any human being, and never would have believed it possible.
It is more than human constitution can bear. Tell me now what sort of a
letter this is which I found in your little girl's dress when I laid
Bubby on her feet."

Lenz told the horrible resolution he had formed, and begged his uncle
to give back the letter which contained his farewell to life. The old
man, however, held it fast and read it half aloud.

Lenz's heart trembled at hearing the words which were not to have been
read till he was out of the world. He tried to make out his uncle's
thoughts, as far as the pale blue light would let him study the
expression of his features. The old man read steadily to the end
without once looking up, and then, with a short, quick glance at his
nephew put the letter in his pocket.

"Give me the letter; we will burn it," said Lenz, scarcely above a
whisper.

In the same low tone Petrovitsch answered: "No; I will keep it; I never
half knew you till now."

Whether the words were meant favorably or otherwise it was hard to
tell.

The old man rose, took his brother's file from the wall, held it
firmly, and pressed his thumb into the groove worn by the dead man's
steady toil of years. Perhaps he was registering there a vow to fill a
father's place to Lenz, if they should be saved. He only said: "Come
here; I have something to whisper in your ear. The meanest act a man
can commit is to take his own life. I once knew a man whose father had
killed himself. 'My father took the easiest way for himself and the
hardest for us,' he said, and the son"--here Petrovitsch drew Lenz
close to him, and shouted in his ear--"cursed his father's memory."

Lenz staggered backward and almost fell to the ground at the words.

"Lenz, for Heaven's sake, Lenz, stand up!" cried Annele from the
chamber. "Dear Lenz," she continued, as the two men hastened to her,
"you had meant to take your own life. I know not whether you could
really have done it; but that you thought of it, and meant to do it,
was my fault. Oh, how your heart must have suffered! I cannot tell what
sin of mine most needs your forgiveness."

"It is over now," said Petrovitsch, soothingly. It was strange that
Annele's mind should be working on the same subject they had been
discussing in the next room. Their tone was so low that she could not
possibly have heard them. Both men did their best to soothe her.

"Is that noon or night?" asked An