Fessel now strewed sand upon his last note, enclosed it with the others and gave the packet with a kiss to his Katharine. The children snapped their pens to the infinite damage of the well scoured white floor, for which their grandmother very properly scolded them. Dorn handed his packet to the beauteous Faith, who hid hers in her bosom, strenuously asserting that she could think of nothing to write.
The clock now struck the midnight hour, and a peal of bells from the tower of the city hall greeted the new year.
'A happy new year! a happy new year!' shouted the children, springing from their seats; and the impetuous Hedwig proposed to open the notes directly, as the new year had already commenced; but Fessel interposed his decided negative and commanded them to defer it until the actual rising of the new year sun.
Amid the noise and confusion of the thousand new year congratulations, Dorn once more approached the lovely Faith.
'Must I enter upon the new year without one kind wish from you?' he pensively asked. She looked at him with embarrassment and irresolution. At that moment she was called by her mother who was already standing in the door. The startling call helped her to come to a decision, and, suddenly drawing the packet from her bosom and smilingly placing it in Dorn's hand, she hastened after her mother.
Long did the youth hold the much coveted packet pressed to his lips. 'How much earthly happiness,' said he to himself with deep emotion, 'have I destroyed in my military career. Do I indeed deserve that love should crown me with its freshest wreaths in a land I have helped to lay waste?'
Dorn, who had retired late and awoke betimes with the interesting little packet under his pillow, found himself at an early hour leaning against a window in the family parlor, and engaged in examining a delicate little note. While thus occupied, Faith, impelled by a similar restlessness, entered the room. As she perceived him whose image had embellished her dreams, an enchanting blush overspread her delicate face, and her beautiful blue eyes beamed with love and joy; but when Dorn, enraptured at the encounter, affectionately tendered her the congratulations appropriate to the new year's morning, changing her mood she turned away from him with feigned displeasure and exclaimed: 'Pshaw, captain! I am angry with you. You have wished me two horrible suitors.'
'Before I undertake to exculpate myself,' said Dorn, 'only tell me which you drew from the packet.'
'The duke of Friedland,' stammered the embarrassed maiden with downcast eyes.
'Look me directly in the eye!' cried Dorn, seizing the hand of the unpractised dissembler. 'Did you really draw no other name?'