ld suppose, as they all are."

"When we are married," said I, "perhaps I may go on with my singing, and
earn some more money by it. My voice will be worth something to me
then."

"I thought you had given up art."

"Perhaps I shall see Adelaide," I added; "or, rather, I will see her." I
looked at him rather inquiringly. To my relief he said:

"Have you not seen her since her marriage?"

"No; have you?"

"She was my angel nurse when I was lying in hospital at ----. Did you
not know that she has the Iron Cross? And no one ever won it more
nobly."

"Adelaide--your nurse--the Iron Cross?" I ejaculated. "Then you have
seen her?"

"Seen her shadow to bless it."

"Do you know where she is now?"

"With her husband at ----. She told me that you were in England, and she
gave me this."

He handed me a yellow, much-worn folded paper, which, on opening, I
discovered to be my own letter to Adelaide, written during the war, and
which had received so curt an answer.

"I begged very hard for it," said he, "and only got it with difficulty,
but I represented that she might get more of them, whereas I--"

He stopped, for two reasons. I was weeping as I returned it to him, and
the train rolled into the Elberthal station.

On my way to Dr. Mittendorf's, I made up my mind what to do. I should
not speak to Stella, nor to any one else of what had happened, but I
should write very soon to my parents and tell them the truth. I hoped
they would not refuse their consent, but I feared they would. I should
certainly not attempt to disobey them while their authority legally
bound me, but as soon as I was my own mistress, I should act upon my own
judgment. I felt no fear of anything; the one fear of my life--the loss
of Eugen--had been removed, and all others dwindled to nothing. My
happiness, I am and was well aware, was quite set upon things below; if
I lost Eugen I lost everything, for I, like him, and like all those who
have been and are dearest to both of us, was a Child of the World.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

"Oftmals hab' ich geirrt, und habe mich wiedergefunden, Aber
gluecklicher nie."

It was beginning to be dusk when we alighted the next day at Lahnburg, a
small way-side station, where the doctor's brand-new carriage met us,
and after we had been bidden welcome, whirled us off to the doctor's
brand-new schloss, full of brand-new furniture. I skip it all, the
renewed greetings, the hospitality, the noise. They were ver