ctor can ever cure."

"I am betrothed. It is too late now for advice," answered Lenz.

The cold perspiration stood on his forehead when he left his uncle's
house.

"But this is only the way of old bachelors--their hearts get hard.
Pilgrim and my uncle are very much alike. One thing is diverting!
Pilgrim thinks the father the only honest one among them, and my uncle
says the same of Annele. I suppose the third person I speak to on the
subject, will tell me the old woman is the best of the lot. They may
one and all go to the deuce! I need no one to back me; I am quite man
enough to act for myself. I must put an end to every one interfering in
this manner with my concerns. An hour hence I hope to be accepted as a
member of a highly considered family."

An hour had not elapsed when Lenz was accepted. Pilgrim's speeches, and
those of his uncle, had no influence over him; but that was their own
fault. When he went straight to Annele's father, unshaken by all
remonstrances, to ask for Annele's hand, he hoped inwardly that she
would be aware of this, and thank him for having stood firm in spite of
every dissuasion.

Annele held her muslin apron to her eyes with one hand, and clasped
Lenz's hand with the other, when pledges were exchanged. The Landlord
walked up and down the room, his new boots creaking loudly. The
Landlady imagined that she was shedding real tears, and exclaimed:
"Good heavens! must I give my last child away? When I go to rest, or
when I rise in the morning, I shall feel utterly helpless. Where is my
Annele? But one thing I distinctly say now, I won't hear of the
marriage for a year to come. We don't need to tell you, Lenz, that you
are dear to us, when we are bestowing our last child on you! Oh, if
your mother had only lived to see this day! But she will rejoice over
it in heaven!"

These words were so touching, that Lenz shed tears. If the Landlord's
boots involuntarily creaked as an accompaniment to his wife's speech,
they now creaked louder and quicker than ever. At last the Landlord's
boots were silent, and his lips began.

"Enough for the present. Let us be men, Lenz;--compose yourself;--quite
right. Now tell me what portion you expect with your wife."

"I never asked about her portion; she is your child, and you will do
all you can. I am not rich, my profession is my chief source of income,
but I have my parents to thank, for having provided against any evil
day. There is no lack: we can have o