the stairs."

"Hush! be quiet!" said she softly, opening the door. "Oh! it is you,
Martina; come in, but tread softly, for the Herr Pastor is asleep. What
message have you for me?"

"Leegart sent me here, to bring you these nightcaps."

"Why did she not come herself?"

"She is in our house, busy making a new jacket for my Joseph."

"You dress Joseph too smartly; you will spoil him," said the Pastorin.

"Leegart takes no payment from me," said Martina timidly, and, turning
away suddenly, the red shawl in which she had wrapped her head fell
back. The young man gazed earnestly at her pretty oval face, and large
dark brown eyes. Martina felt that he was looking at her, and casting
down her eyes blushed deeply, groping for the handle of the door in
going out, as if she had been in the dark.

The Pastorin, however, followed her into the passage, and said, "You
would like to know about the Roettmaennin? The state of her health is as
bad as that of her heart. She sent for the Herr Pastor last night, but
she is not dangerously ill; far from it."

"God is my witness that I do not wish for her death," said Martina
earnestly, laying both hands on her heart.

"I believe you. My husband had a severe struggle with her, but he
persists in his determination never to marry Adam to any one but
yourself. But I will tell you all about it another time," said the
Pastorin, turning to re-enter the room.

But Martina said uneasily, "Oh! dear Madam, I cannot make out what is
the matter with my Joseph for some days past; he speaks and thinks of
nothing but his father. He insists on my talking of him till he goes to
sleep, and in the morning his first words are always about his father.
He has refused positively to go back to school any more, for they call
him _The Foal_ there, because his father's nickname in the village is
_The Horse_."

The Pastorin could not help smiling, but she said, "I cannot stay with
you at present: that was my youngest brother who has come to visit me.
Pray be very strict with Joseph: the whole village spoils that child.
Come to see me again during the holidays, and shut the outer door very
gently."

Martina went homewards with slow and heavy steps, singing in a
melancholy tone the lines that seemed to haunt her memory:

"Faithful love my bosom fills,--
Can true love ever fade?
Oh! what a smile that heart must wear
That never was betrayed."

In the mean