d her through the stable
of the draught-horses, and that of the carriage horses; let her see
the harness-room and the servants' rooms; the laborers' cottages
and the wood-carving room. She became a little confused by all the
different rooms that Uncle Theodore had considered necessary to
establish on his estate; but her heart was glowing with enthusiasm
at the thought of how splendid it must be to have all that to rule
over. So she was not tired, although they walked through the sheep-houses
and the piggeries, and looked in at the hens and the rabbits. She
faithfully examined the weaving-rooms and the dairies, the smoke-house
and the smithy, all with growing enthusiasm. Then they visited the
big lofts; drying-rooms for the clothes and drying-rooms for the
wood; hay-lofts, and lofts for dried leaves for the sheep to eat.

The dormant housewife in her awoke to life and consciousness at all
this perfection. But most of all, she was moved by the great
brewhouse and the two neat bakeries with the wide oven and the big
table.

"Mother ought to see that," she said.

In the bakehouse they had sat down and rested, and she had told of
her home. He was already like a friend, although his brown eyes
laughed at everything she said.

At home everything was so quiet; no life, no variety. She had been
a delicate child, and her parents had watched over her on account
of it, and let her do nothing. It was only as play that she was
allowed to help in the baking and in the shop. Somehow she came to
tell him that her father called her Downie. She had also said:
"Everybody spoils me at home except Maurits, and that is why I like
him so much. He is so sensible with me! He never calls me Downie;
only Anne-Marie. Maurits is so admirable."

Oh, how it had danced and laughed in uncle's eyes! She could have
struck him with her switch. She repeated almost with a sob:
"Maurits is so admirable."

"Yes, I know, I know," Uncle had answered. "He is going to be my
heir." Whereupon she had cried: "Ah; Uncle Theodore, why do you not
marry? Think how happy any one would be to be mistress of such an
estate!"

"How would it be then with Maurits's inheritance?" uncle had asked
quite softly.

Then she had been silent for a long while, for she could not say to
Uncle that she and Maurits did not ask for the inheritance, for
that was just what they did do. She wondered if it was very ugly
for them to do so. She suddenly had a feeling as if she ought to