days of the young spring. The faithful
Schwartz followed him everywhere; and
when he sat down on some venerable old
ruin or green moss bank covered with purple
violets, the dog would crouch beside him,
and look up into his face.

One day he approached his unfinished
picture; he wiped the dust oif. His eyes
rested on it for some time; then he took up
a pencil, made some alterations in it, looked
for his palette, put fresh colours on it, and
was soon absorbed in his painting. Day after
day he sat at his long-neglected easel. Peace
came gradually back to his soul, and a calm
look to his eye.

"Why should I lose my youth," he thought,
"lamenting a fault I have not the power to
undo? Time will conquer these feelings, and
then, perhaps, I may be able some day to
return to Kronenthal to my mother, and
look upon Ernst—yes, even upon Marie—
his wife—unmoved." Then he thought he
would look at the letters he had shut up
in the drawer when he iirst came home; but
the drawer was locked, and the key nowhere
to be found. During his researches after it,
the letter which he had received from Ernst,
asking him to come up to his marriage, fell
under his hand. He opened it; it was full
of joyous affection and buoyant happiness.
Eric's heart throbbed with sympathic affection,
even as it throbbed when he had first
read the letter. It ran thus:

Northernmost ho! Eric, my soul's beloved brother;
your presence is necessary to complete my happiness.
I have wooed and won a pearl of surprising beauty.
Come and be a witness to our union. Pardon me,
dear Eric, if I have not told you of this before, but I
was loth to trouble your brotherly heart with all my
hopes and fears. The sun has at length broken
through the clouds, and when you are here it will
beam in full splendour on our marriage. Come as
soon as you receive this; as soon as you arrive it will
take place. Our mother is well; she hopes soon to
have the joy of seeing yon again. She counts the
hours till you come as impatiently as I do. Do not
refuse to come; without you our joy will be clouded
with sorrow. Your loving brother, ERNST.

P.S. I do not tell you the name of my bride. I
want to surprise you. She is an old friend of yours,
though you have not seen her for years. Perhaps
curiosity will speed you on your way.

There was the fatal mistake! Why not
have told him who she was? Why not have
described her? Why not have lingered with
a lover's fondness over every feature? He
would have recognised her at once; and at
least he would have been innocent. For, he
felt it now; he knew that he had loved her
from the very day in which he had first seen
her in the Sistine Chapel. But his heart was
so calm, he was so self-possessed, even until
the very moment in which he came to her
rescue, that it would not have been difficult
to repress all beyond.

The reading of this letter of Ernst's, and
the painful thoughts it renewed, threw Eric
back in the progress he had made towards
recovering his peace of mind. He resolved
to make no attempt to open the drawer, and
to leave the other letters where they were.
On the arrival of another letter, with the
same post-mark, he put that away, resolved to
do nothing which could renew thoughts that
he knew would only be a source of pain to
him. His better feelings at last triumphed.
His picture advanced, it was nearly linished.
It was the Temptation in the Wilderness.
And, whilst Eric put the last finishing touches
to the white angels appearing in the foreground,
he felt as if angels were ministering
to him too.

He had triumphed; he had conquered the
material life; he had regained the spiritual;
and he thanked Heaven, and was happy.

One bright early summer day, who should
stand beside him but Carl? Carl, his own
dear friend! Schwartz bounded up joyously,
and leaped upon him. " Carl, dear Carl!"
cried Eric; and Carl could not speak for
amazement.

"Sit down, Carl, I will tell you all." And
Eric began from the night in which he made
the fatal discovery that he loved his brother's
bride. He hid nothing.

"It was only afterwards," said Carl, "whilst
wandering in search of you, that I began to
understand what discovery could alone have
impelled you to such a flight. I have
traced you from town to town, dear Eric. I
recognised this ring of yours," producing
it, and placing it in Eric's hand, " I also
knew the model you made of Schwartz.
His being with you helped me a good deal. I
had some difficulty in persuading the possessor
to let me have that model; but I have it
safe. He thought a good deal of it, and the
strange young man who sold it to him. I
lost your track for some time when you
passed through the Tyrol. It was not until
a week ago that I heard from Ernst you
had returned to Rome; and then I came here
as fast as I could."

"And Ernst? Have you heard from
Ernst lately? Is he married?"

"He is married. On his receiving your
letter telling him you were at Rome, his
marriage took place. It is now about three
months ago. It was at your mother's desire
that it was done. Ernst wanted to see you
first." But Carl did not tell Eric that the
marriage was solemnised when all thought
his mother was dying. He reserved that
for another time.

Gloomy thoughts did not remain long
with Eric now: he had only to put them
from him, and the cloud passed away. Carl
and he worked together and walked together
as of old, and their life was as
happy as before. Carl cut a beautiful group
of Schwartz struggling with the wolf, in
pure white marble, for Katrine, as he had
promised her; and the two friends packed it
and sent it to Kronenthal with a loving letter