"How does he look?" asked the mother urgently.
"He is tall and slender, with black eyes and black hair, and a scar over his brow; he looks to me like a huntsman."
"Great God! is it possible? can it be my brother?"
"Yes, it is he," cried the huntsman, as he entered and offered his hand to his astonished sister. From the arms of his sister he hastened to embrace his manly nephew, while the joyful Agnes, with the Bible in her arms, now ran up to her mother, now [{404}] to her uncle, and then to her brother, who beheld the book with astonishment, and began faintly to suspect what happened.
When the first tempest of delight had subsided, and given place to a more quiet though not less deep joy, question crowded upon question, and answer upon answer.
The uncle first related how after the marriage of his sister he had entered into the service of the Count of Maxenstein as upper game-keeper; how he had often tried to obtain intelligence of his dear sister; twice had taken a journey himself to their native place, and could learn nothing of her; how he had searched all the newspapers; and at length, when all means and efforts had failed, how be sorrowfully gave up the hope of ever seeing her again. Then he told her how he had come to this place on business for the count, his master; had visited the Christmas fair and the stall of the antiquary, and had there unexpectedly found his father's Bible and Agnes, and through them his sister and nephew.
Then affectionately clasping Ernest by the hand he begged his sister to relate her history.
"My history," she replied, "is short, and yet varied with many sorrows that the Lord has laid upon me. You knew that my husband left his native place to seek a better living in Eichstadt. But in this he was deceived. Then, in spite of my entreaties, he entered the French service as surgeon, and came to Saarlouis, where his regiment lay in garrison. Soon after his arrival a malignant fever broke out among the soldiers, which carried away great numbers, and among them my husband. God give him his kingdom," said she drying her tears. "His death was the more dreadful for me, because I was alone in a foreign land without friends or help, and had but just risen from my bed after the birth of Agnes. In my need I wrote several letters to you and to our relatives at Settenberg, but received no answer. At first I thought this was caused by irregularities of the post-route, which was everywhere embarrassed by the disturbances of the war; but I soon learned, to my great sorrow, that our Settenberg had been sacked and burned by the French. Imagine, my dear brother, my condition! What a happiness for me that, some months after the death of my husband, an old aunt of his made me the offer to go to her, and she would support me as well as she was able. I was not terrified by the length of the way, and received from her a cordial welcome. But, alas! this happiness was not long to last. My good aunt died, leaving me her heir, but she had other relations who disputed the will, and, after a law-suit of three years' continuance, an agreement was made by which most of the property fell into the hands of the judges and lawyers. Hardly a fourth part of it remained after the costs were paid. I had nothing now but care and trouble; but I ever found a firm support in my dear Ernest. May God reward him! But now, dear brother, now, if I only have you, again all care will be over." And the good woman, deeply affected, pressed his hand.
"Oh, my dear ones!" cried he, after listening to his sister's narrative with lively sympathy, "let us all thank our Heavenly Father that he has to-day brought us all together again, in so wonderful a manner, by means of this book; for I had already determined to leave this place in the morning."
Ernest related how hard it had been for him to part with the precious book, how he had been encouraged by the passage in Matthew, what mean treatment he had met with from the antiquary, and how he had almost made up his mind to take back the book with him.