"Wait a week," said Loretz in a whisper; and all that night and the
following day his chances for this world and the next seemed about
equal.

But after that he rallied, and his recovery was certain. It was slow,
however, hastened though it was by the hope and expectation which
had opened to him when he had reached the lowest depth of despair and
covered himself with the ashes of repentance.

The letter for the wife and little girl was written, and money sent to
bring them from the place where Loretz had left them when he set
out in search of occupation, to find employment as a porter, and the
fever, and Albert Spener.

During the first year of co-working Loretz devoted himself to the
culture of the willow, and then, as time passed on and hands were
needed, he brought one family after another to the place--Moravians
all--until now there were at least five hundred inhabitants in
Spenersberg, a large factory and a church, whereof Spener himself was
a member "in good and regular standing."

Seven years of incessant labor, directed by a wise foresight, which
looked almost like inspiration and miracle, had resulted in all this
real prosperity. Loretz never stopped wondering at it, and yet he
could have told you every step of the process. All that had been
_done_ he had had a hand in, but the devising brain was Spener's;
and no wonder that, in spite of his familiarity with the details,
the sum-total of the activities put forth in that valley should have
seemed to Loretz marvelous, magical.