u during the night, and you could not hear
him!"

"If he is still alive, I will cherish henceforth every word of his."

"God grant it! Amen," said Haespele in a low voice, and went on before
them with his torch; and the two followed him close together.

CHAPTER XIII.
A TROOP OF HOBGOBLINS.

"Let me carry the clothes; give me his clothes," said Adam, as they
went along.

"No, I cannot part with them, they are all I now have belonging to him,
and I have the new boots in the bundle, that he never wore, and in my
hurry I brought his little wooden horse, too."

"Does he like horses? then he will like me also."

"Oh! do not speak so lightly; remember that he may be dead."

"The child may have lost himself in the wood, and yet not be dead; and
who knows whether he may not be at home at this moment, having gone of
his own accord, or some one have brought him home."

As a token of gratitude for these consoling words, Martina placed the
bundle of clothes on Adam's arm, saying, "Carry them for me." When they
passed by a weeping willow close to the road, which looked very
singular, its drooping branches all hung with snow and glittering in
the torchlight, Martina continued: "Do you see that tree? When our
Joseph was not quite three years old, I was walking here with him, and
on seeing the leaves hanging down, he said, 'Mother! that tree is
raining leaves.' He often spoke such strange things, that it was quite
puzzling to know whether one was on earth or in heaven, and what one
could do, or ought to do with him; and he is grown so strong, so very
strong; I was obliged to use all my strength when I wished to hold
him--and now to die such a death! it is too dreadful. Joseph! Joseph!
my darling Joseph! Oh! where are you now? I am here, your mother and
your father too. Joseph! Joseph! oh come! Call him, Adam, can't you
shout out his name?"

"Joseph! Joseph!" called Adam with his powerful voice, "My child! come
to me; Joseph! Joseph!" and Adam, who once trembled to pronounce the
child's name even secretly, now shouted it loudly in the wood. Soon,
however, he desisted, and said, "It is no use, Martina; try to be
quiet, or you will make yourself ill."

"If my Joseph is dead, I don't care to live either; I care for nothing
more in this world."

"I cannot believe that, Martina; surely you have some love for me
still."

"Oh heavens! don't wrangle with me just now,"