“I will go with you, Fräulein; you shall not take this weary road alone. Heaven knows that, without you, this place would be too dreary for me.”
“But your house, Hanserl,—all that you possess,—the fruits of all your hard industry—”
“Speak not of them,” said Hans, reddening. “They who deem me rich are mistaken. I have speculated ill, I have made bad ventures, and what I have will but pay my debts, and I will be glad to quit this spot.”
“And I,” said Nelly, with a voice of deep emotion,—“I cannot say that I can help you. I know nothing of what may remain to me in this world; my father never spoke to me latterly of his means, and I may be, for aught I know, a beggar. Will you see his banker and speak with him?”
“I have done so,” said Hans, slowly. “He claims some small sum as due to him.”
“And how am I to pay it?” said Nelly, growing pale. “It is true, I can labor—”
“Have no care for this, Fräulein. It shall be looked to, and you shall repay it hereafter.”
“Oh, Hanserl, beware!” said she, solemnly; “we are an unfortunate race to those who help us; my poor father often said so, and even his superstitions are hallowed to me now.”
A gesture from some one within the house called Hans away, and Nelly was left alone. She sat with her eyes closed and her arms firmly clasped, deep in her own sad thoughts, when she heard a footstep close by. It was only Andy, who, with a piece of ragged crape fastened round his arm, was slowly tottering towards her. His face was flushed, and his eyes wild and excited, as he continued to mutter and reply to himself,——
“A Dalton; one of the ould stock, and maybe the last of them, too.”