o? Forsaken and forgotten--a garden tree by the hedge, in the
field, and on the public way! There it stands unprotected, plundered,
and broken! It has certainly not died, but in the course of years the
number of blossoms will diminish; at last the fruit will cease
altogether; and at last--at last all will be over!"

Such were Anthony's thoughts under the tree; such were his thoughts
during many a night in the lonely chamber of the wooden house in the
distant land--in the Haeuschen Street in Copenhagen, whither his rich
employer, the Bremen merchant, had sent him, first making it a
condition that he should not marry.

"Marry! Ha, ha!" he laughed bitterly to himself.

Winter had set in early; it was freezing hard. Without, a snow-storm
was raging, so that every one who could do so remained at home; thus,
too, it happened that those who lived opposite to Anthony did not
notice that for two days his house had not been unlocked, and that he
did not show himself; for who would go out unnecessarily in such
weather?

They were grey, gloomy days; and in the house, whose windows were not
of glass, twilight only alternated with dark night. Old Anthony had
not left his bed during the two days, for he had not the strength to
rise; he had for a long time felt in his limbs the hardness of the
weather. Forsaken by all, lay the old bachelor, unable to help
himself. He could scarcely reach the water-jug that he had placed by
his bedside, and the last drop it contained had been consumed. It was
not fever, nor sickness, but old age that had struck him down. Up
yonder, where his couch was placed, he was overshadowed as it were by
continual night. A little spider, which, however, he could not see,
busily and cheerfully span its web around him, as if it were weaving a
little crape banner that should wave when the old man closed his eyes.

The time was very slow, and long, and dreary. Tears he had none to
shed, nor did he feel pain. The thought of Molly never came into his
mind. He felt as if the world and its noise concerned him no
longer--as if he were lying outside the world, and no one were
thinking of him. For a moment he felt a sensation of hunger--of
thirst. Yes, he felt them both. But nobody came to tend him--nobody.
He thought of those who had once suffered want; of Saint Elizabeth, as
she had once wandered on earth; of her, the saint of his home and of
his childhood, the noble Duchess of Thuringia, the benevolent lady who
had b