if so, there may be one to rejoice at my return." Thus soliloquizing,
he put his hat on again, slung his wallet over his shoulder, and
supporting himself on his stout staff, approached the house. Very few
changes had occurred since he had left. A few new houses had been
erected, but the old ones remained unaltered, even the one where he had
formerly lived. He had inherited it from his father, and had carried
on the linen trade there until he left with his first wife for the New
World.

The congregation were returning from the chapel. Here and there a
group would gather before one or other of the dwellings, to enjoy the
mild summer night; and as the old man passed along he greeted a Brother
or a Sister, and they returned it kindly, but like strangers. No one
recognized him, although many looked after him curiously as he
staggered feebly on towards the Sisters' house.

"That is not the Brothers' house, dear Brother," said a young man,
addressing him.

"Yes, I know it. But I know where I am going," he replied, as if
pleased to find the different roads so familiar to him. Then he pulled
the bell at the Sisters' door, and requested to speak with Agatha.

He was ushered into the sitting-room, and as Sister Agatha entered,
recognized her at the first glance.

"Sister, does Carmen Mauer still live, and is she here?" he asked,
trembling with intense suspense.

The speaker must once have been a very handsome man. He bore evidences