eager readers were found, but no thalers to buy it with, Duke Ernst himself provided a copy, doubly prized for its own worth, and the sake of the princely giver.

Martin's love of learning was greatly stimulated by hearing and seeing Faber's work, and by the knowledge of how deep was Duke Ernst's interest in everything concerning education. Even now, in spite of all obstacles, he had instituted regular examinations of the schools throughout his state, together with visitations of every parish, to see where pastors were needed, and how each flock was cared for; and though war and difficulties of every sort beset his plans, he persevered through all, and in time the fruits of his steadfast efforts were seen throughout the whole land. Martin said to himself that one day he would go to Duke Ernst, to whom every one had free access, and tell him his longing to study and become a teacher. Faber said that the Duke had founded scholarships at Jena to support young and poor students, and that he welcomed not only learned men, encouraging them to come to Jena and Erfurt from every place where he discovered them, but that he was equally ready to receive students, if only they were in earnest in their desire to obtain a good education. If other means failed, he would offer himself as an apprentice to Peter Schmid, the printer, whom Duke Ernst had established at Gotha, to print good and cheap school-books, and copies of his code of laws in a popular shape, and so earn money enough to carry on his studies later. It was characteristic of Martin that he said nothing of his plans to any one,

though a word dropped now and then might give a hint of them to his uncle or to Faber; he was meditating them in silence all the winter, so as to see his way clearly, and have them in a definite form before he laid them before his uncle. He was quite certain in his own mind of what he wished, and no doubt Theresa's high esteem for learned men, and her reverence for the father whose name had counted among them, stimulated him as well as his own natural tastes; but it was a hard struggle when he thought of quitting his family, his home, the country life, the great forest which he loved so much. His heart sank at the mere idea of it, and he had not the love of change and adventure which would have made many a lad ready to leave all the old things for the sake of the unknown wonders which might lie outside of them. His very heartstrings were entwined with what he had known and loved all his life. He had little ambition, no pleasure in novelty; but of late, since Duke Ernst had visited the farm, and Faber had been there, and had treated him as a friend and companion, a longing awoke in him to do something for his fatherland, to spend and be spent for it, as they were, if in ever so far smaller a measure. He might indeed spend his life at Tannenhof; no doubt he and Hanslein one day could manage the farm between them; but, after all, he had nothing to offer but his labour, no more than Gregor or Klaus, for he was but the penniless son of Dorner's scapegrace younger brother, and if he stayed, though for the love he bore the place he might have been well satisfied

to do so, and led a contented, eventless life there, it might be very well for him; but what should he have done for any one else, and what chance was there that Theresa would ever give him a look or a thought? Her coming to Tannenhof had changed all his life, little as she knew or seemed to care-that and the visit of Duke Ernst.

Everything had seemed just the same as usual, and as if all life might flow on as evenly the day he went through the forest to seek her at Mühlbach ; but it was the beginning of changes which would alter everything for all the years to come to Martin. Looking back he could see it quite plainly now. He almost wished he could go back to that tranquil time when he was still a boy, and had no thoughts beyond Tannenhof and the forest; but that could not be. He was nearly twenty now, almost a grown-up man, two years older than Theresa, though she seemed to think him still a boy. How sweet she was in all her various moods, Martin thought, how unlike all the other women at the farm. No wonder she had never learned to feel at home there. She was to Martin another Aslauga, stolen from a royal home, and forced to disguise herself and serve among lowly folks who never guessed her rank and beauty, even though sometimes they were startled for a moment by the wondrous gleam of her golden hair. He made an ideal of his wilful Resi, and loved her all the better for her faults, and always found ample excuse for them. Martin had a touch of poetry in him, though nobody suspected it, not even himself, and Resi called it forth unconsciously, as the

sun calls out all lovely colours on landscapes, which without his light look bare enough. He had been her champion in a quiet decisive kind of way from the first, and she and every one else accepted it as a matter of course, and were too much accustomed to it to give it any particular thought, except Rosel, who had never shaken off, like Dore, her early dislike to Theresa, and stimulated that of Dame Martha, with whom she was apt to discuss her, and saw with jealous vexation how high Martin set her above any one else among the maidens at the farm. Rosel liked no one to be set above herself, and had so good an opinion of her own attractions that she had hitherto scorned the advances of any youth who had shown a liking for her. It certainly did not cross her thoughts in their wildest flight that she could attract her master's nephew, who, of course, would marry in his own class, but it was intolerable to her that he should have no eyes or ears for any one but the Seejungfer.

CHAPTER XIV.

"Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard.”

-SHAKESPEARE.

HEN with late spring the snow melted, and the

ways were once again open, and intercourse with

the world outside the valley possible, Theresa was urgent with Dorner that the letter to her cousin at Sonnfeld should be written and sent off. It seemed as if spring, which had sent a new impulse of life into the budding trees, and birds and beasts, had put fresh restlessness into her. While the long winter months lasted, and Faber had given her plenty of mental occupation, she had seemed to have put aside her purpose, and it was an unpleasant surprise when she thus returned to it, and demanded that the letter should be despatched. This was by no means so easy a matter as she supposed. No one at Tannenhof had ever written or received a letter. One, indeed, had been brought to Faber in the autumn by a messenger, from Duke Ernst, an event never to be forgotten; but Faber belonged to the outside world, where many things were done of which