gravely. The banker was impatient and murmured
discontentedly. Holt carefully pocketed the rolls of money, made an
inclination of gratitude to Gerlach, and went out. He passed slowly
through the hall. The porter opened the door. Holt stood still before
him.

"I ask your pardon, but do you know Mr. Seraphin?" asked he.

"Why shouldn't I know a gentleman that has been our guest for the last
two weeks?"

"You must pardon my presumption, Mr. Porter. Will Mr. Seraphin remain
here much longer?"

"He will remain another week for certain."

"I am very much obliged to you," said Holt, passing into the street and
hurrying away.

"Your intended has a queer way of applying his money," said the banker
to his sister the next morning. And he reported to her the story of
Seraphin's munificence. "I do not exactly like this sort of kindness,
for it oversteps all bounds, and undoubtedly results from religious
enthusiasm."

"That, too, can be cured," replied Louise confidently. "I will make him
understand that eternity restores nothing, that consequently it is
safer and more prudent to exact interest from the present."

"'Tis true, the situation of that fellow Holt was a pitiable one, and
Hans Shund's treatment of him was a masterpiece of speculation. He had
stripped the fellow completely. The stupid Holt had for years been
laboring for the cunning Shund, who continued drawing his meshes more
and more tightly about him. Like a huge spider, he leisurely sucked out
the life of the fly he had entrapped."

"Your hostler says there was light in Seraphin's room long after
midnight. I wonder what hindered him from sleeping?"

"That is not hard to divine. In all probability he was composing a
sentimental ditty to his much adored," answered Carl teasingly.
"Midnight is said to be a propitious time for occupations of that
sort."

"Do be quiet, you tease! But I too was thinking that he must have been
engaged in writing. May be he was making a memorandum of yesterday's
experience in his journal."

"May be he was. At all events, the impressions made on him were very
strong."

"But I do not like your venture; it may turn out disastrous,"

"How can it, my most learned sister?"

"You know Seraphin's position," explained she. "He has been reared in
the rigor of sectarian credulity. The spirit of modern civilization
being thus abruptly placed before his one-sided judgment without
previous preparation may alarm, nay, may even disgust hi