'How so?'

'His Excellency has a violent fit of the gout!'

'Long may it continue!' said Charlie fervently.

'Amen!' added Heinrich, lying back in his chair and laughing heartily; 'the idea of an adoring swain having an ailment so unromantic! And now for the object of my visit. I have simply come to apologize for all that has occurred at the Schloss; but I might have foreseen it, had my own affairs not occupied too much of my attention. Ernestine is too enchanting a girl to have failed to attract. What is done cannot be undone. I do love you, Carl, and deplore all that has taken place.'

The two friends shook hands warmly. With Charlie, his comrade, brother officer, and most particular 'chum,' was now the link between him and Ernestine—between him and Frankenburg—the Eden from which he had been banished, and without his Eve. How he loved the generous fellow! How gladly he would lay down his life for him; but in doing so, he would leave Ernestine, and, perhaps, to another. Another? Oh! that was not to be thought of! Heinrich began again—

'Herminia says that Ernestine has never closed an eye since last night, which I am sorry to say, because if troubles can be slept upon they are curable. However, don't be alarmed about Ernestine,' he added, laughing, 'she's very low and sad, no doubt; but there is no chance of her drowning herself in Fastrada's pool below the Schloss—that odious pond where I used to puddle for many a day with a crooked pin and a string, catching many a cold, but never a fish.'

'Why, Heinrich?'

'For a very sufficient reason. There was none in it.'

'Do you think your mother will ever forgive me?

'Heaven alone knows. Time will show. She has the most absurd ideas concerning alliances and family rank. As for my father, he storms and gets into rages that I call apoplectic ones; but he'll sit in his study among the saddles, dogs' collars, and so forth, and smoke himself into quietude ere long. He is a wonderful hale and hearty old fellow for his great age; but he married late in life, and has only had a silver wedding, when his comrade, old Field-Marshal Wrangel, has had a golden one. And, then, you are a soldier, Carl—and to be a soldier is always a trump card with him. You have heard how he saved Blucher's life at Ligny?'