hat
he foreboded. In the saloon he first sat down in the arm-chair to
collect himself, then lighted some more tapers, and stooping entered
the niche. The spacious width of the window gleamed from top to bottom
as in a golden blaze; for frame crowded on frame, one more gorgeous
than the other, and in them all those pictures of his father, over
whose supposed loss, old Walther and Erich had so often mourned.
Guido's Salvator Mundi, Dominichino's St. John, all gazed upon him, and
he felt himself thrilled with tenderness, devotion, and amazement, as
in an enchanted world. When he recovered his recollection, his tears
began to flow, and he remained there, heedless of the cold, sitting
amidst his new-found treasures, till morning dawned.

* * * * *

Walther had just risen from table, when Erich hastily came into
the picture-saloon to him. "What is the matter with you, my
friend?" exclaimed the counsellor: "have you seen a ghost?" "As you
take it," replied Erich, "prepare for an extraordinary piece of
intelligence."--"Well?"--"What would you give, what would you do in
return, if all the lost paintings of your late friend, those invaluable
treasures, were brought to light again, and might become your own?"

"Heaven!" exclaimed the counsellor, changing colour: "I pant for
breath. What say you?"--"They are discovered," cried the other, "and
may become your property."--"I have no means to buy them," said the
counsellor: "but every thing, every thing would I give, to obtain them,
my gallery and fortune, but I am too poor for it."--"What if the owner
were willing to make them over to you, and required in return merely
the favour of becoming your son-in-law?"

Without answering, the old man ran out to find his daughter. They
returned in dispute together. "You must make me happy, dear child," he
cried as they came in; "on you now depends the felicity of my life."
The terrified daughter was going to make farther opposition, but upon a
secret nod from Erich, which she thought she understood, seemed at last
to give way. She went out, to change her dress; for the pictures and
the suitor were waiting for her, as Erich declared, at his house. Amid
what strange thoughts, and expectations, did she select her best
attire; "Might she not be mistaken in Erich? Had he understood her? Had
she rightly interpreted him?" Walther was impatient, and counted the
moments; at last Sophia came back.

In Erich's hous