chair on his head. Bessie ran after the Frieselander, calling:

"Aunt Barbel's grandfather's chair; where will she take her afternoon
nap?"

Henrica had heard the words, and thought first of good old "Babetta," who
could also feel tenderly, then of Maria and the man who was to lodge in
the rooms opposite. Were there not some loose threads still remaining of
the old tie, that had united the burgomaster's wife to the handsome
nobleman? A feeling of dread overpowered her. Poor Meister Peter, poor
Maria!

Was it right to abandon the young wife, who had held out a saving hand
in her distress? Yet how much nearer was her own sister than this
stranger! Each day that she allowed herself to linger in this peaceful
asylum, seemed like a theft from Anna--since she had read in a letter
from her to her husband, the only one the dead man's pouch contained,
that she was ill and sunk in poverty with her child.

Help was needed here, and no one save herself could offer it.

With aid from Barbara and Maria, she packed her clothes. At noon
everything was ready for her departure, and she would not be withheld
from eating in the dining-room with the family. Peter was prevented from
coming to dinner, Henrica took his seat and, under the mask of loud,
forced mirth, concealed the grief and anxieties that filled her heart.
At twilight Maria and the children followed her into her room, and she
now had the harp brought and sang. At first her voice failed to reach
many a note, but as the snow falling from the mountain peaks to the
plains at first slides slowly, then rapidly increases in bulk and power,