arned world, that even making a trip on the Rhine, in
a clear, bright sunshine, she thought she must have a book with her.
She must give herself up wholly to the scenery and to her own thoughts.

Sonnenkamp seated himself near her, and said in a tone of genuine
emotion, that he could not but congratulate his children, nay, almost
envy them, that they were to live in the society of a woman of such a
youthful spirit.

The more he talked, the tenderer he became, and his eyes glistened as
if moistened with tears. He frequently said that he could not speak of
his youthful years, which were arid and desolate, with no gentle hand
of woman to soothe him with caresses. The strong man was deeply moved,
as he spoke of his childhood in words that partly veiled and partly
revealed his meaning. At last he came to the main point, composing
himself by a violent effort. The Professorin felt that she must first
inquire into the reason why Manna had became so alienated from him.
Bending down his head, he proceeded to say:--

"They may have told her something that I disdained to contradict. Were
you, honored lady, to know what it was, you would without hesitation
pronounce it to be a falsehood devised by the most malignant
hostility."

The Professorin desired to know what was said, but he replied that if
he should repeat it, he should run mad here on board the boat. His
features, that had been composed and placid, were suddenly distorted in
a fearful manner.

The Professorin now dwelt upon the visit that she was going to make to
the Superior, the friend of her youth, and begged Herr Sonnenkamp to
avoid all direct endeavor to influence his daughter in favor of
herself.

"Children," she said, "must make their own friends, and they cannot
receive them ready made from others. One must be careful not to intrude
one's self upon them, and to wait quietly and patiently, until they
come of their own accord."

Sonnenkamp considered this so judicious, that he promised not to go
with her, in the first instance, to the island, but to remain at the
inn on this side of the river until the Professorin should send for
him.

"You are as good as you are wise," he said praisingly, for he detected
as he thought in the lady's unobtrusiveness a politic motive; and he
was pleased in the notion of circumventing all cunning with a deeper
cunning still.

While Sonnenkamp and the Mother were sailing down the Rhine, a strange
circumstance occurred on the