o years away, he wrote to announce his
intended marriage with a highborn young lady in Sweden, and to ask for
his father's consent. To me he wrote, that he hoped I should not
withhold my blessing, as his bride was exactly such as I would have
chosen for him myself. And afterwards he sent me her picture;--an
angel's face; all gentleness and goodness. Before I had seen it, I used
sometimes to torment myself with thinking that he had only made up his
mind to marry, in order to set his father's mind at rest. But I knew,
those great clear, innocent eyes of hers, must have found their way to
his heart."

"Then came accounts of the wedding, and of their beautiful wedding-tour
among the mountains. You will hardly believe it, sir, but even then the
young countess found time and thoughts to spare for poor old Flor. She
wrote to thank me, for having taken such care of her Ernest all his
life, she said. But there was no word of their coming back to Germany,
especially after the pair of twins was born--which event was an
occasion of great rejoicing here in this castle. The count used to talk
of going to Sweden, and taking me along with them; and you will believe
that my head was turned by the thoughts of such a journey, and such a
meeting."

"But it is not for us to number our days--many an old cripple, or
useless pensioner, has to stand sentinel a weary while, watching for
the call, and waiting to be relieved. And other lives, on which a whole
world of happiness hangs, are taken--we do not know how or why."

"One day Count Henry was carried home for dead. He had been thrown from
his horse, and had received some internal injury, which no doctor was
able to discover. He came to himself again, but only with a faint light
of consciousness or memory. He knew the countess and me, but no one
else--Pierre he would not suffer in the room at all. He took him for a
rat, and cried incessantly; 'Take it away!--catch it!--set a trap for
it!--it has gnawed away my wedding-garment. See what a hole it has
bitten in it!'"

"And then he would call upon his son so movingly, it was impossible to
hear him without tears. The countess had written immediately to Count
Ernest, to tell him the state in which his father was; I only feared he
might come too late."

"Do not ask me, Sir, to describe those days, and the nights we had to
live through, nor the heart-rending sight it was to see that young
wife, who never uttered one word of complaint, but rath