o the brim, and drank to one another,
after the German fashion. The conversation was then carried on in a
low tone; all that we could collect from it was, that our new relative
and his daughter were to take up their abode in our cottage, at least
for the present. In about an hour they both fell back in their chairs,
and appeared to sleep.

"'Marcella, dear, did you hear?' said my brother in a low tone.

"'Yes,' replied Marcella, in a whisper; 'I heard all. Oh! brother, I
cannot bear to look upon that woman--I feel so frightened.'

"My brother made no reply, and shortly afterwards we were all three
fast asleep.

"When we awoke the next morning, we found that the hunter's daughter
had risen before us. I thought she looked more beautiful than ever.
She came up to little Marcella and caressed her; the child burst into
tears, and sobbed as if her heart would break.

"But, not to detain you with too long a story, the huntsman and his
daughter were accommodated in the cottage. My father and he went
out hunting daily, leaving Christina with us. She performed all the
household duties; was very kind to us children; and, gradually, the
dislike even of little Marcella wore away. But a great change took
place in my father; he appeared to have conquered his aversion to the
sex, and was most attentive to Christina. Often, after her father and
we were in bed, would he sit up with her, conversing in a low tone by
the fire. I ought to have mentioned, that my father and the huntsman
Wilfred, slept in another portion of the cottage, and that the bed
which he formerly occupied, and which was in the same room as ours,
had been given up to the use of Christina. These visitors had been
about three weeks at the cottage, when, one night, after we children
had been sent to bed, a consultation was held. My father had asked
Christina in marriage, and had obtained both her own consent and that
of Wilfred; after this a conversation took place, which was, as nearly
as I can recollect, as follows:--

"'You may take my child, Mynheer Krantz, and my blessing with her,
and I shall then leave you and seek some other habitation--it matters
little where.'

"'Why not remain here, Wilfred?'

"'No, no, I am called elsewhere; let that suffice, and ask no more
questions. You have my child.'

"'I thank you for her, and will duly value her; but there is one
difficulty.'

"'I know what you would say; there is no priest here in this wild
country: true;