ar-box, which she was sent
for."

He might have betted what he liked; when little Esztike returned, her
artless countenance beamed with some joyful mystery, but there was no
sugar-box in her hand.

Every eye was turned upon her; it was no wonder, therefore, that she
blushed like the morning sky.

"Well, where is the sugar-box?" cried Mistress Debora impatiently.

Esztike blushed still deeper, looked still more confused; but at last,
when she saw that everybody began to smile on her, she ran over to her
father and hid her burning face in his bosom. The old man laughed, and
kissed the little bride again and again, making her face still redder
with his rough beard.

"I will go for the sugar myself," said I; for I felt as if thorns were
under my feet.

"Certainly, go for it, both of you," said Uncle Gergely, putting
Esztike's hand in mine.

"And now I will answer for it, we shall not see the sugar box
to-night," remarked the assessor on the two chairs.

We went into the house together.

Who can presume to compare his happiness with mine? Who would be so
audacious as to seek words to express such happiness? I am silent; for
that small white hand, that smiling but fitful glance, those artless
lips, whose silence spoke so much--all were mine; and their
possession made me wealthier than if an empire had been conferred on
me. O God! what a beautiful thought of thine was love!

When we returned to the arbour with the sugar-box, the company had
long forgotten that they had drunk coffee; and we excused ourselves by
saying that there was no sugar in the box when we went into the house.
Fortunately they did not investigate the matter farther. So far was
true--the box was empty when we went for it; but when we returned with
it--there was still nothing more in it!

* * * * *

"This day two months I will be glad to see you all at the wedding."
And with these words, my uncle closed the _fiancailles_.

* * * * *

But the will of poor mortals is in the keeping of God.

Before the two months were over, my uncle was obliged to take a long
journey--so long, that he could not even take his pipe with him! He
blessed us both, and died like a good Christian, scarcely cursing the
doctor and the medicines; and we buried my good uncle, Gergely
Sonkolyi.

Esztike and I mourned for him a whole year--outwardly; for in our
hearts we remember him as tenderly to this day a