eltering mansions. She seemed already to hear voices from the
noisy world without, calling her once more to return to it. She must
obey them, but made a firm resolve faithfully to return into this, her
one, only home.

She descended to the island, and took her seat under the pine-tree
where she had so often worked. There was the little bench on which
Heimchen had sat close by her side, almost at her feet. Manna sat here
long, trying to imagine the distractions which life could bring to her
in this one year, but she did not succeed. Her thoughts would return to
Heimchen, and she found herself trying to follow the young soul into
the eternity of Heaven.

Suddenly she heard steps, and looking up saw before her a youth who was
like Roland, only much taller, and more manly. She could not stir from
her seat.

"Manna, Manna, come to me!" cried the boy.

She rose, and with a loud cry, brother and sister fell into one
another's arms.

"Sit down by me," said Manna at last. They sat together upon the bench
beneath the pine-tree, and Manna, pointing to the smaller bench, told
of Heimchen, and of her often wanting to hear stories about Roland, and
when she came to tell how the child had died of homesickness, she
suddenly exclaimed:--

"Our whole life, Roland, is nothing but homesickness for our heavenly
home; of that we die, and happy is he who dies of it."

Roland perceived that his sister was in a state of overwrought
excitement, amounting almost to ecstasy; and speaking in a tone of
quiet and manly decision, he told her that she must first come back to
her earthly home. He told her of his having acted in a play, and having
been photographed in his page's silk dress; of the order his father had
received; and, finally, of a secret his father had confided to him, and
which he could not tell.

"Our father told you a secret?" asked Manna, her face growing rigid.

"Yes, and a beautiful, noble one; you will rejoice with me when you
hear it."

Manna's features relaxed.

Roland told her how he had fancied himself with her all through his
delirium, and that she ought to feel only happy at his being still
alive.

"Yes, you are still alive," cried Manna, "you shall live. All is
yours."

He reminded her that to-morrow was his birthday, and that his own wish
was that she would let him take her to their parents on that day.

"Yes, I will go with you," cried Manna, "and it is better we should go
directly."

Hand in hand, th