Thank God, he is at home! there is a light in his room. He is playing the guitar. O dear good Pilgrim!
May heaven keep me in my senses, and let me not die of joy! Oh, if my good mother had but lived to see this day!
Pilgrim was playing and singing so loud as not to hear him as he ascended the stairs. Lenz threw open the door, and, spreading out his arms, exclaimed, "Rejoice with me, brother; I am so happy!"
"What is the matter?"
"I am betrothed."
"You are? To whom?"
"How can you ask? to her, to the truest heart in all the world, and as wise and bright as the day. O Annele!"
"What! Annele? Annele of the Lion?"
"You wonder at her taking me, do you not? I know I am not worthy of her, but I will deserve her. God is my witness, I will deserve her. I will devote my life to her; she shall--"
His eyes fell upon his mother's picture. "Mother, dearest mother!" he cried, "in thy place in the seventh heaven rejoice, for thy son is happy!"