" I have a letter for you, signor; it is
down stairs," she said, " it came for you three
days ago."

"I will go with you and fetch it," said Carl.
Is the Signor Eric up?"

"No, signor; but there is a lady and gentleman
in the signer's studio. They have been
here several times since signor Eric went out.
The lady and gentleman came to-day to see
if you were come home."

"Eric gone out! " said Carl. " When did he
go out I This morning?"

"No, signor. Two days ago."

"Two days ago! And where is he gone?"

"I do not know, signor."

"What lady and gentleman?"

"I do not know, signor. The gentleman
asked if you had returned, and said he would
wait a little and see if you or signor Eric
came in."

Carl ran up stairs to the studio; he opened
the door, and entered. He stepped back in
amazement—he could scarcely believe his
eyes when they fell upon Ernst and
Katrine.

"And where is Marie, Madame Walderthorn,"
he asked, hesitatingly, after the first
hearty greetings were over. "She is not ill,
I hope?"

It was now Ernst's turn to look at Carl in
amazement. Katrine smiled. " Why, this is
Madame Walderthorn," he said, laying his
hand on Katrine's arm.

"Whew! " said Carl, and drew a long
breath; and then sitting down, fanned himself
with his broad-brimmed hat, and burst
out laughing, with tears at the same time
pouring from his eyes. " Why," he said,
when he had recovered his breath, " we both
thought it was Mademoiselle Marie you had
married."

"What? " said Ernst. " Who thought so?
Eric?"

"Yes, and so did I, " said Carl. " I am sure
I cannot exactly tell you, how or where,
either he or I got the impression that you
and she were betrothed lovers last Christmas.
But we were both certain of it. It was the
cause of his flight from Rabenstein."

Ernst was thunderstruck. Carl told him
everything he knew of the business, beginning
from the meeting in the Sistine chapel
to the hour when he found him again in
Rome.

"Poor suffering Eric! " cried Ernst. " It
was Katrine who told me of your adventures
that night, and the rescue they had received
at your hands. It was Katrine, who told me
also, that Eric loved Marie; and that she
returned his affection. I had been speaking
to my mother and Marie's parents when I
came into Eric's room, and that evening was
to have seen their betrothal. But how came
you to be so deceived, Carl? Did not I tell
you that Katrine was my betrothed, or
Franz—did you not see him again?"

"No, you said nothing to me that night,"
said Carl; " nor did you ever mention it
in any of your letters. I suppose you never
dreamed of our mistake; even in your
letter announcing your marriage, and telling
me Eric was at Rome, you did not mention
your bride's name. And as for Franz,
I have never seen him, or heard from him
since; and, if you remember, I never returned
to the room after we had searched
the woods. No! Eric told me, and I never
doubted but that he knew all about it; therefore,
I never asked any one. Why should
I? But, good Heaven, what surprise and
joy for him! Where is his mother now—the
lady of Kronenthal?"

"She is herself again, and here with us
at Rome. She is at our lodgings with Marie.
We have brought her here for change of
air. She has been ill; and is even now far
from well, poor child."

It was true. Marie, since the night when
Eric fled from Rabenstein, had drooped like
a broken flower. All through the agony of
the night of fruitless search, she had scarcely
uttered a word; and during the weeks of
suspense which passed, before she heard
that he was safe at Rome, she had scarcely
seemed alive. Her greatest consolation appeared
to consist in being allowed to watch
beside the bed of his mother, when she lay,
long, at the point of death. She would retire
to pray in the oratory, where the picture
had been hung, which Eric had brought for
his mother, the picture in which she saw
herself so lovingly, so well remembered.

When weeks and months passed away,
and he did not return, but only wrote and
said that he was happy, and would come to
see them soon, the hope which the picture
inspired faded away from her heart, and she
became very ill. When the group of Schwartz
struggling with the Wolf, arrived, Katrine,
to whom it was sent, gave it to Marie, who
was still living at Kronenthal, with Eric's
mother, and Ernst and his wife. It was carried
into her room, and sometimes she would
stand and look at it for hours, unheeding
those who spoke to her. At last, as summer
approached, Ernst determined to go to Rome,
and see Eric, since he would not answer any
of his letters, or inquiries as to the cause of
his flight. At first he thought he would go
alone, and then he determined to take
Katrine and Marie with him; but as Marie
was still very weak, their journey was put
off from week to week, till the autumn was
at hand. They wanted to surprise Eric, so
Ernst took care not to write to him.

Their precautions had been defeated. On
the first morning after their arrival,

"Where can Eric be? " asked Ernst,
"surely he will return soon?"

"I cannot think," said Carl. "I have a
letter here, it may be from him. I will open
it, if you will allow me, Madame Walderthorn?"

"Oh, pray do! " she said. " But pray call