"When in devout faith you sought to know God's will concerning your dear child?"
"I cannot talk about it," was the impatient response. "And you cannot understand it," he continued, turning quickly upon his companion. "You have never had a daughter, and you don't understand Albert Spener."
"I think," said the minister patiently—"I think I know him well enough to see what the consequence will be if he should suspect that Brother Loretz is like 'a wave of the sea, driven with the wind and tossed.'"
Yet as the minister said this his head drooped, his voice softened, and he laid his hand on the shoulder of Mr. Loretz, as if he would fain speak on and in a different strain. It was evident that the distressed man did not understand him, and reproof or counsel was more than he could now bear. He walked on a little faster, and as he approached his gate voices from within were heard. They were singing a duet from The Messiah.
"Come in," said Loretz, his face suddenly lighting up with almost hope.
Mr. Wenck seemed disposed to accept the invitation: then, as he was about to pass through the gate, he was stayed by a recollection apparently, for he turned back, saying, "Not to-night, Brother Loretz. They will need all the time for practice. Let me tell you, I admire your daughter Elise beyond expression. I wish that Mr. Spener could hear that voice now: it is perfectly triumphant. You are happy, sir, in having such a daughter."
As Mr. Wenck turned from the gate, Leonhard—our Leonhard Marten—approached swiftly from the opposite side of the street. He had been sitting under the trees half an hour listening to the singing, and, full of enthusiasm, now presented himself before Mr. Loretz, exclaiming, "Do tell me, sir, what singers are these?"
Mr. Loretz knew every man in Spenersberg. He looked at the stranger, and answered dryly, "Very tolerable singers."
"I should think so! I never heard anything so glorious. I am a stranger here, sir. Can you direct me to a public-house?"
To answer was easy. There was but the one inn, called the Brethren's House, the sixth below the one before which they were standing. It was a long house, painted white, with a deep wide porch, where half a dozen young men probably sat smoking at this moment. Instead of giving this direction, however, Loretz said, after a brief consultation with himself, "I don't know as there's another house in Spenersberg that ought to be as open as mine. I live here, sir. How long have you been listening?"