ranz went off from Altenahr on his journeyings four years ago
next May-day; and before he went, he brought me back a ring from Bonn,
where he bought his new clothes. I don't wear it now; but I have got it
upstairs, and it comforts me to see something that shows me it was not
all my silly fancy. I suppose he fell among bad people, for he soon
began to play for money,--and then he lost more than he could always
pay--and sometimes I could help him a little, for we wrote to each other
from time to time, as we knew each other's addresses; for the little
ones grew around my father's hearth, and I thought that I, too, would go
forth into the world and earn my own living, so that----well, I will
tell the truth--I thought that by going into service, I could lay by
enough for buying a handsome stock of household linen, and plenty of
pans and kettles against--against what will never come to pass now."

"Do the German women buy the pots and kettles, as you call them, when
they are married?" asked I, awkwardly, laying hold of a trivial question
to conceal the indignant sympathy with her wrongs which I did not like
to express.

"Oh, yes; the bride furnishes all that is wanted in the kitchen, and all
the store of house-linen. If my mother had lived, it would have been
laid by for me, as she could have afforded to buy it, but my stepmother
will have hard enough work to provide for her own four little girls.
However," she continued, brightening up, "I can help her, for now I
shall never marry; and my master here is just and liberal, and pays me
sixty florins a year, which is high wages." (Sixty florins are about
five pounds sterling.) "And now, good-night, sir. This cup to the left
holds the tisane, that to the right the acorn-tea." She shaded the
candle, and was leaving the room. I raised myself on my elbow, and
called her back.

"Don't go on thinking about this man," said I. "He was not good enough
for you. You are much better unmarried."

"Perhaps so," she answered gravely. "But you cannot do him justice; you
do not know him."

A few minutes after, I heard her soft and cautious return; she had taken
her shoes off, and came in her stockinged feet up to my bedside, shading
the light with her hand. When she saw that my eyes were open, she laid
down two letters on the table, close by my night-lamp.

"Perhaps, some time, sir, you would take the trouble to read these
letters; you would then see how noble and clever Franz really is. I