much
speculation and comment.

Two days after his disaster the frozen body of a man was found under
the snow in a woody hollow near Knuslingen. It was poor old Proebler. No
one mourned him so deeply as Lenz. He believed now that he had heard
the old man calling him, and read a lesson in the death of this poor,
half-crazy discoverer that was revealed to no one else.

Annele continued to thrive in her uncle's great house, and was as fresh
and blooming as ever. She and Lenz lived there till late into the
summer, when their own house was ready for them. Little William sorely
troubled the old man by jumping up on sofas and chairs which Bubby was
allowed to tumble about on with impunity.

Petrovitsch caught a violent cold from his exposure that night, and was
strongly urged by the doctor to try the baths for his cough. He
steadily refused, however, resolving in his own mind that, if he must
die, he would die at home; he had had enough of homesickness. He
often walked with little William on the Spannreute, where well-grown
larch-trees had been set out, and trenches dug to protect the house.
One day he said to him reprovingly: "William, you are just like Bubby,
never satisfied with the straight path. Why will you always be jumping
this way and that, over a ditch or up the side of a rock? you two are
fit companions for each other." "Uncle," answered little William, "a
dog is not a man, nor a man a dog." These simple words so pleased the
old uncle, that he begged Lenz to leave the boy behind if he ever
should return to his house on the hill.

Annele was the one most desirous of going back to the Morgenhalde. Once
she would have thought it a paradise upon earth to keep Petrovitsch's
big house for him, in the expectation of becoming his heir; now she
cared for nothing but to pass her days in quiet, happy industry among
the lonely hills.

The death of her mother, which had been concealed from her for a time,
did not fall upon her as a sharp and sudden blow; it counted as one of
the many horrors which were crowded into that terrible night.

Petrovitsch kept little William in the house, and induced Pilgrim to
make his home with them. The passersby were often entertained by the
sounds that came from the big house; the neighing as of a horse, the
grunting of a pig, the whistle of a nightingale, or the squeaking of
little owls. Two heads, the one of an old child, the other of a young
one, were generally to be seen at the window.