it, and remove to another country. They were
all so much attached to Eric and herself, and would like so much to
have them for friends and neighbors.

In fact, a magnanimous spirit took possession of the company; and, on
their way home. Manna exclaimed,--

"O Mother! Eric was perfectly right. He persuaded me to come here, and
I am glad I did. We ought not to seclude ourselves from people when
they are kindly disposed towards us."

During the whole drive. Manna held the Professorin's hand, and, when
they arrived at the Villa, ran up the steps for the first time with a
firm and rapid tread. She ordered the room to be brightly lighted, and
also begged Eric to sing to her. He knew what songs to choose; and,
when they separated, she said,--

"Yes, my dear ones, I have taken my journey, and now I am once more
quite at home."

CHAPTER VIII.

TRANSPLANTED.

Roland, meanwhile, was living quietly at the commercial town,
industrious and happy. He resided in the Banker's house, and made
friends with the children of the latter, particularly with a younger
son, who, just returning from the University, had laid aside his books,
and entered immediately upon the banking business. But for Weidmann's
youngest son he cherished a genuine youthful friendship, very unlike
that artificial intimacy with the cadet, which had been forced upon him
by others. They were incessantly busy during the day, which closed with
a late dinner, after which they had a game in the billiard-room, or
attended some concert or play, or, more frequently, read or studied
quietly, each by himself.

Roland often sat in his room till late at night, teaching English to
his young friends Weidmann and Fassbender.

He, too, had now become a teacher, and derived a singular pleasure from
thus imparting something of himself, and not merely of his
possessions,--a pleasure which was exalted into the purest joy by the
bright and cordial nature of young Weidmann.

Wherever Roland appeared, he was the object, first of remark,
afterwards of kindly attention. He thought often of his winter at the
capital, and how different life had been there. Here he found a circle
of commoners, understanding itself thoroughly, and not without pride in
its own strength. All the officials at the counting-house were
particularly friendly to Roland. His beauty, his confiding disposition,
above all his hard fate, seemed to re