igned, "The Man from Eden."

Eric requested the Major to stay with his mother and send for Fraeulein
Milch to join him; at the same time he begged Knopf to bring Roland
home, and prepare him as gently as he could for what had happened.

From every side, fresh difficulties poured in upon Eric. How every
thing had come together! Clodwig's death, Sonnenkamp's flight, the fate
of Roland, the fate of Manna--all weighed upon his heart.

As he was mounting his horse, he fortunately descried Professor
Einsiedel, to whom he told in a few words what had happened, and begged
him to stay with Manna.

He rode to the city. A despatch awaited him, telling that in an hour he
should receive some definite tidings.

This suspense was most trying to Eric: he knew not what steps he should
take next.

He walked through the city: everywhere were men and women safe in the
privacy of their homes, while he and his seemed cast out into the
street. He lingered long before the Justice's house. Lina was singing
her favorite song from "Figaro;" and the words, "that I with roses may
garland thy head," were given so feelingly, with so much suppressed
emotion, that Eric's breath came hard as he listened. He knew just how
it looked up there in the sitting-room. The Architect was leaning back
in the red armchair, while his betrothed sang to him; flowers were
blooming in the window; and the whole atmosphere was rich with music
and perfume.

Unwilling to disturb their comfort by his heavy thoughts, he returned
to the telegraph-station, and left word that he should be sent for at
the hotel if any despatch came for him.

He sat alone in a dark corner and waited. The guests were gathered
about the long table with their glasses of beer before them. Their talk
was dry, and seemed to make the liquor the more refreshing. Eric forced
himself to listen to their chat. They talked of Paris, of London, of
America; one man was going to one place, another to another, a third
was coming back: the free, mobile character of the Rhineland people was
spread out before him; they live as if always floating on their native
stream.

Suddenly the cry was raised,--

"Hurrah! here comes the story-teller."

Eric recognized the man who had been a great favorite with all ever
since he had spent his first night in the city, at the Doctor's house.
He had one of those faces, red with constant drinking, whose color
makes it impossible to distinguish any age short of forty, an