"Alas, no!" said the girl, "none whatever; and yet I have seen a great number of people during these few years. And I have always worn my necklace, which, being such a peculiar one, might have attracted attention and led to the discovery of my parentage; but except one Englishman, whom I met at the Stanfords', who said I reminded him of some one whom he had seen, there has been nothing to lead me to suppose that any one thought of me except as a friend of the Stanfords. But, Elsie, though I am not discontented, still at times there is the old yearning for my own people. But God knows best, and I am not going to waste my life in useless longings. I have got five pupils in Dringenstadt already, and several more applications, and next week I begin my life-work as a teacher of the violin.—Don't you envy me, Hans?"
"That is what I do, Fräulein Frida," said Hans. Somehow as he looked at the fair young lady the old familiar name of Frida seemed too familiar to use. Frida turned quickly round on him as he uttered the word "Fräulein."
"Why, Hans—for I will not call thee Herr—to whom did you speak? There is no Fräulein here—just your old sister playmate Frida; never let me hear you address me again by such a title. Art thou not my brother Hans, the son of my dear friends Elsie and Wilhelm?" and a merry laugh scattered Hans's new-born shyness.
And to the end of their lives Frida and Hans remained as brother and sister, each rejoicing in the success of the other in life; and in after years they had many a laugh over the day that Hans began to think that he must call his sister friend, the companion of his childhood, his instructor in much that was good, by the stiff title of Fräulein Frida.
Ere Frida left the hut that day, they all knelt together and thanked God for past mercies, and it was Elsie's voice that in faltering accents prayed that Frida might still be used in the Forest to lead many to the knowledge of Christ Jesus through the reading of the Word of God.
CHAPTER XII.
IN THE GREAT METROPOLIS.
"There are lonely hearts to cherish
While the days are going by,
There are weary souls who perish
While the days are going by.
If a smile we can renew,
As our journey we pursue,
Oh, the good we all may do
While the days are passing by!"
THE London season was at its height, but though the pure sunshine was glistening on mountain-top and green meadow, and beginning to tinge the corn-fields with a golden tint in country places, where peace and quietness seemed to reign, and leafy greenery called on every one who loved nature to come and enjoy it in its summer flush of beauty, yet the great city was still filled not only by those who could not leave its crowded streets, but by hundreds who lingered there in the mere pursuit of pleasure, for whom the beauties of nature had no charm.
On one peculiarly fine day a group of people were gathered together in the drawing-room of a splendid mansion in one of the West End crescents.