He arrived just in time to close his relative's eyes, after which he saw him quietly interred in his last home.
This sad office over, he was thinking of returning to England, when, in turning over the articles of his travelling trunk, he suddenly came across a German book belonging to a college friend of his, one Ludwig Engstein, that had been lent him when at the university, and which he had forgotten to return before leaving college. His friend used to live, he remembered, in Weimar, and not being far distant, he resolved to visit that town and to find out his friend's house.
Many changes take place in twelve years, and my ancestor only half expected to meet his fellow-student again. He might have changed his residence—he might be dead. Who could tell what might not have happened to him after so long a lapse of time?
Nevertheless, the Englishman, finding himself on German soil once more, resolved to enquire after the friend of his youth, and should he succeed in discovering him, to put him in possession of his book again, and chat with him over their student days.
Accordingly, he set off for the town of Weimar, and having arrived there, proceeded with the said book under his arm to the house of his friend. He had been once on a visit of a fortnight at his friend's house when a student, and had known his mother and sisters intimately, therefore he had no difficulty in finding the house again.
The town of Weimar had changed but little during these ten or twelve years, and once more he found himself on the old familiar doorstep.
"Ist der Herr Advocat Engstein zu Hause?" he demanded of an old woman who answered the door.
"Ja, mein Herr," replied the crone. "What name shall I give?"
"Oh, never mind announcing me," said the Englishman; "I'll announce myself."
So saying, he pushed past the old woman, and knocked at his friend's study.