in eager expectation at the carriage. But the
welcome met with no return. The baron was got out with some difficulty,
and with sunken head, supported by his wife and daughter, he toiled up
the steps. The pale face of the baroness from behind him had only a mute
glance for the tenants and servants--only a short nod of recognition for
Anton, who proceeded to lead them to their suite of rooms.

"All very nice, Mr. Wohlfart," said she, with quivering lips; and as he
remained standing and waiting for his first orders, she dismissed him
with a wave of the hand, and the words, "I thank you." When the door had
closed upon Anton, the baron stood helpless in the strange room, and the
baroness broke out into loud weeping. Lenore leaned against the window,
looking out into the snow-covered plain, with its black wall at the
horizon, and great tears rolled silently down her cheeks. It was with a
heavy heart that Anton returned to tell the people assembled that the
family were fatigued and overcome, and would not be seen by them till
the morning. Karl had the carriage unpacked, and led the old cook, who
wept like her mistress, into the underground kitchen. None of the family
reappeared that evening, and the light was soon put out in their rooms;
but the pitch still glowed and flickered in the wind, and a black cloud
rose above the window where the baron sat hiding his face in his hands.

Such was the entrance of this family upon their new estate.

"How beautifully Wohlfart has arranged every thing!" said Lenore to her
mother the following day.

"These high rooms are dreadful," replied the baroness, wrapping her
shawl around her; "and the monotonous brown of the walls makes them
still more desolate!"

"It is surely time to send and ask him to come here and speak to us?"
suggested Lenore, timidly.

"Your father is not yet in a mood to speak to him."

"Do not leave my father alone with Wohlfart," implored Lenore. "It would
be horrible if he were to treat him rudely."

The baroness sighed. "We must accustom ourselves to pay to a stranger in
our house a degree of attention and observance which will be irksome
both to your father and to us."

"How will you arrange about the housekeeping?" asked Lenore, again.
"Wohlfart will, of course, have his meals with us?"

"Impossible!" said the baroness, firmly. "You know what a melancholy
thing our dinner is. Your father is not yet calm enough to be able to
bear the daily presence of a str