de."

"Brother," cried Sabine, with burning cheeks, "do not forget that I am
your sister. I am a merchant's daughter, and he would never belong
entirely to our class. I am as proud as you, and have always had the
conviction that not all the love in the world could ever fill the gulf
between us. Trust me," continued she, with tears; "you shall see no more
sad looks. But be kinder to him; think what his fate has been, tossed
about among strangers; think how he has grown up without affection,
without a home; spoiled in many ways, but still with a high sense of
honor, an abhorrence of all that is little. Trust me, and be kinder to
him."

"He shall stay," said the merchant; "but besides, my darling, there is
another whom we should seek to guard from his influence."

"Wohlfart!" cried Sabine, cheerfully; "oh, I will answer for him."

"You undertake a good deal. So he, too, is a favorite?"

"He is tender-hearted and honorable, and devoted to you; and he has
plenty of spirit too. Trust him, he will be a match for Fink. I happened
to meet him at the time that Fink had insulted him, and I have given him
a place in my heart ever since."

"How does this heart find room for every thing?" cried the merchant,
playfully; "above and beyond all, the great store-room, the oaken
presses of our grandmother, and the piles of white linen; then, in a
side-chamber apart, your strict brother; then--"

"Then all the others in the ante-chamber," broke in Sabine.

Meanwhile Fink entered Anton's room, humming a tune, little suspecting
the storm in the front part of the house, and, truth to tell, little
caring what they thought about him there. "I have fallen into disgrace
on your account, my son," cried he, merrily. "His majesty has treated me
all the day long with killing indifference, and the black-haired has not
deigned me a single glance--good sort of people, but desperately matter
of fact. That Sabine has at bottom plenty of life and spirit, but she
plagues herself about the merest trifles. She would raise a question as
to whether it was a fly's duty to scratch its head with the right leg or
the left. Why, you are on the way to be looked upon as the 'Mignon' of
the counting-house, and I as your evil genius. Never mind; to-morrow we
will go together to the swimming-school."

And so it was. From that day forth Fink delighted to initiate his young
friend into all his own pursuits. He taught him to swim, to ride, to
leap, to shoot at a ma