one have heard what has passed. Good
night, Pilgrim!"

"Good night, Lenz!"

CHAPTER XVIII.
A REBUFF AND A BETROTHAL.

When Lenz was gone, Pilgrim sat for a long time alone, staring at the
lamp and twisting his moustaches. He was vexed with himself, he had
said all he wanted, but he had said too much, and consequently failed
in his object. He could not recall it, for it was all true; but what
good had he done? He paced his room restlessly, and then sat down again
and fixed his eyes on the light. What a strange world this is! How
seldom a man attains his original object in life! We cannot believe
this when we are young, and we think the old grumbling and morose, and
at last we become just the same ourselves, and find that we must submit
to this patchwork existence: no use complaining, we must not expect to
have all we wish.

Pilgrim could not help recalling distant memories of his hidden life.
When he left his native home ten years ago, he felt as if he had
courage to conquer the whole world, and was inspired with a sensation
of tranquil happiness. He had said nothing, he had made no sign, he had
received no pledge, and yet he had no doubts nor difficulties in his
mind. He loved the fair, slender Amanda, the Doctor's daughter, and she
had deigned to regard him, as a princess would have done. She had
condescended merely to glance down on him like a goddess; he helped her
in holiday time to affix labels to the foreign plants, on which he had
himself written the names distinctly, copied out of a book. She treated
the poor forsaken boy like a good and benevolent spirit, and even when
he grew to manhood, she often asked him to assist her in her garden;
she was always equally amiable and kind in manner, and her every glance
was treasured by Pilgrim. And when the day of his leaving home arrived,
when he was passing the Doctor's garden, she held out her hand to him
over the hedge, saying:--"I have a whole collection of remembrances of
you in the flower labels, on which you wrote all the names. When you
find these plants in the course of your travels, in their native soil,
you will often think of our garden, and our house, where everyone feels
an interest in you. Farewell! and return to us soon!"

Farewell! and return soon! These were words that went with the
traveller over hill and dale, across the ocean and to foreign lands,
and many an echo repeated the name of A