"Yes, noble sir," answered the host. "I
believe they live at Strahlen; they are two
sisters, the ladies Marie and Katrine von
Mellinthen—at least, so my wife told me, for
we had not seen them before to-night—and
they told my wife their name was
Mellenthin, and there are no Mellenthins live
nearer than Strahlen, and that is a good
twenty leagues off."

"Which is Marie?" asked Carl—"the
lady with the golden curls?"

"Yes, noble sir; the lady Katrine has
darker hair, and darker eyes than her sister.
It was she who fainted."

"Marie is a beautiful name, and suits her
well," said Carl.

"I believe the ladies would like to see you
to-night, noble gentlemen," said the landlord.
"They were very anxious when they heard
your excellency had gone back into the
storm. The beautiful lady Marie was speechless
with terror, and was only pacified when
she heard you were returned."

Eric's countenance flushed with strong
emotion. Joy beamed from his dark eyes.
Carl looked at him, and smiled mischievously.

"I suppose I am not to go?" said Carl.
"I dare say the ladies never saw me," he
continued, with an air of mock despondency.

"O yes, noble sir, but they did!
Mademoiselle Marie saw you hold the plunging
horses at the risk of your life, and she wants
particularly to see the friend for whom the
noble Eric Walderthorn risked his life in the
storm. She told my wife that she thought
he must love and value you like a brother."

Eric and Carl looked at each other and
smiled, while their hands met in a friendly grip.

"We have seen some danger and some
trouble together, worthy Herr Wirkmann,"
said Carl, "and that always makes men
friends."

"Noble sirs," observed the landlord, " the
gracious ladies bade me say they would be
glad to see you after your supper; there will
be coffee in their apartment if you will do
them the honour to partake of it."

Carl and Eric despatched their suppers in
all haste, and then following a waiter whom
they had summoned, they found themselves in
the room where the two ladies were expecting
them.

Katrine was kneeling down bathing
Schwartz's ear, which had been torn in the
affray with the wolf; Marie, kneeling beside
her, held him round the neck; their servant,
Wilhelm—the man who had been thrown out
of the sleigh stood beside them, holding a
bowl containing warm water.

The sisters rose on the entrance of the
two young men, and Marie blushing, and
looking more lovely than ever with joy
beaming in her face, came forward hastily
towards Eric, holding out both her hands.
Eric took them, and pressed them in his
own with a fervour partaking of the two-
fold nature of his feelings for her,—the
spiritual devotion he had borne towards her
so long, and the more human passion
struggling for mastery in his breast, now
when he found his cherished dream a reality.
He pressed the offered hand of Katrine,
receiving their grateful thanks with a manly
embarrassment, presenting at the same time
his friend, Carl.

"His name is not Carl, exactly," said Eric;
"but as he always laughs at me whenever I
attempt to pronounce his English name, I
have always called him Carl."

"And what is your unpronounceable
name?" asked Marie, smiling.

"Charles Tomestone," answered Carl,
laughing; "Eric cannot say anything but
'Sharles,' so we have made an arrangement
that I am to be Carl for him, and he has
further germanised my name, and calls me
Carl Tohanson."

"So you are German, after all, you see,"
said Katrine, "and now that you have
killed some wolves and been out in a
snow-storm, you are quite naturalised."

"I am so glad you are a German," said
Marie; "I like my friends to be German;
here is a third who fought in our defence;
Schwartz, dear Schwartz!" and she patted
the head of the handsome wolf-hound, who,
on Eric's entrance, had jumped up to greet
him. "See!" she continued, to Eric, "he
recognises you who killed his antagonist."

Eric stooped to pat Schwartz's head, and
in so doing touched Marie's hand by accident.
Their eyes met, Eric's heart throbbed
violently, and when, at Katrine's invitation,
he sat down and took the coffee presented to
him, his hand shook so much that, had it not
been for Carl, he would have dropped the cup
on the ground.

"You know we are old acquaintances," said
Katrine, laughing, to Eric. "Do you not
remember three ladies in the Sistine Chapel,
last spring?"

"I recognised you the moment I saw your
sister. And my friend Carl, he was with me
that morning. But there was another lady
with you."

"That was our aunt," said Marie. "It was
returning from her house to-night that we
were beset by the wolves, when you came so
opportunely to our help."

"No wonder that we remarked your
countenance in the Sistine Chapel," said Katrine,
"You are so like your brother, the Baron
Ernst."

"Do you know Ernst?" asked Eric, quickly.

The sisters looked at each other and
smiled. "Oh, yes; a little."

The two friends sat talking with the sisters
till late. They found so many things to talk
of; and Schwartz sat before Eric, looking up
into his face, switching his great tail on the
floor, as if he knew him.

When Carl and Eric met at breakfast
the next morning, the snow still fell fast. All
travelling was out of the question; there