e prime of life sat on the sofa reading and smoking. He wore a
light-brown overcoat, brown trousers, and low, thick boots. He had a
fresh, florid complexion, red beard, blue eyes, and an expressive,
agreeable countenance. When Frank entered he arose, laid aside the
paper and cigar, and approached the visitor.

"I found these things on the mountain near the weather-cross." said
Frank, after a more formal than affable bow. "As your daughter met me,
I presume they belong to her. I thought it my duty to return them."

"These things certainly belong to my daughter," answered Herr Siegwart.
"You are very kind, sir. You have placed us under obligations to you."

"I was passing this way," said Frank briefly.

"And whom have we the honor to thank?"

"I am Richard Frank."

Herr Siegwart bowed. Frank noticed a slight embarrassment in his
countenance. He remembered the expressions his father had used in
reference to the Siegwart family, and it was clear to him that a
reciprocal ill feeling existed here. Siegwart soon resumed his friendly
manner, and invited him with much formality to the sofa. Richard felt
that he must accept the invitation at least for a few moments. Siegwart
sat on a chair in front of him, and they talked of various unimportant
matters. Frank admired the skill which enabled him to conduct, without
interruption, so pleasant a conversation with a stranger.

While they were speaking, some house-swallows flew into the room. They
fluttered about without fear, sat on the open door, and joined their
cheerful twittering with the conversation of the men. Richard expressed
his admiration, and said he had never seen anything like it.

"Our constant guests in summer," answered Siegwart. "They build their
nests in the hall, and as they rise earlier than we do, an opening is
left for them above the hall door, where they can go in and out
undisturbed when the doors are closed. Angela is in their confidence,
and on the best of terms with them. When rainy or cold days come during
breeding time they suffer from want of food. Angela is then their
procurator. I have often admired Angela's friendly intercourse with the
swallows, who perch upon her shoulders and hands."

Richard looked indeed at the twittering swallows, but their friend
Angela passed before his eyes, so beautiful indeed that he no longer
heard what Siegwart was saying.

He arose; Siegwart accompanied him. As they passed through the yard,
Frank observed the