Resi was longing to show some gratitude for the Bäuerin's kindness to Ulrike, some sign that she herself was not unthankful, for all at once Dame Martha's harshness and prejudices had receded from view, and she perceived her own misdemeanours in a proportionately magnified shape; but she could think of nothing beyond seeking her a store of rare herbs, which perhaps no one else could find for her, and with that intent she slipped away into the forest, passing Dorner with a word of explanation, which brought a pleased look on his clouded face. She thought, like the rest of those who chanced to notice him, that he was going to cut wood, for he had his axe on his shoulder, but he was really on his way to the hollow oak.

Resi was a long while in collecting plants enough to satisfy her, and she went further and further into the forest, with her mind awake to the business in hand, and yet all the while so occupied with other thoughts that she paid little attention as to where she was going, until Flink, who had as usual followed her, sprang joyfully forward, and she heard her name spoken by Martin. He had his jacket off; the sickle with which he had been cutting reeds was in his hand, and he was standing quite still as he rested his other arm on the almost bare bough of a gnarled and stunted oak, which stretched out its low branches beside a pool thickly framed in the reeds and tall sword-like flags among which Martin had been at work. Mayflies danced over its dark mirror, which reflected the blue sky and the light boughs of an ash-tree beside it with wonderful exactness. A great eft

was lurking amid the broad leaves of a water-lily, and a tall yellow iris made a golden light above the water which reflected its blossoms. Osiers had been cut and set to soak in bundles, and among them a sedge warbler had built its nest ; and was flitting over the topmost twigs, uttering its hurried note, and not showing the least fear of Martin, though it darted out of sight when Theresa appeared, clinging to a reed, to watch her from a distance. Overhead a willow-wren was chirping in a tree-top. Martin did not stir, though he had recognized her step, and called her; and when she came close she saw that it was not for the sake of the bird that he had remained so still. Dragonflies were darting about the pool, and one, attracted as such insects are by the sun shining on anything white and brilliant, had suddenly settled upon Martin's sleeve. He was looking intently at it. This was no dark and insignificant sejungfer, but a splendid creature, all vivid golden, green, and blue, with wide gauzy wings-Resi herself as she appeared in Martin's eyes.

Neither he nor Theresa spoke until the dragon-fly darted off, but only to hover round them again and again. Whatever Martin's thoughts were, he only said, "You leave us, then, to-night?"

"Yes, so Master Dorner thinks best."

"It may be I shall not stay here long either,” said Martin.

"How so? whither are you going?" she exclaimed in wonder, for Tannenhof without Martin, or Martin

away from Tannenhof, was a new and surprising idea to her.

"The best thing I could do would be to lose myself where none could find me," he answered, with such bitterness as greatly to startle her; "but I suppose I shall seek Duke Ernst, and ask him to help me to find some work that I can do."

"Not soldiering? No, that you love not," said Resi; and poor Martin fancied there was a tone of mockery in her words of which she was quite innocent. "But are you really going from Tannenhof? You who used to say you could live no where else, and that no company was like the trees of the Thuringenwald ?"

"I shall miss it all sorely, I suppose; but I may not stay. It is all spoiled to me-everything is spoiled. I had almost made up my mind some time ago that I would go and study, and make myself a name, perhaps, so that you would not be ashamed of me if people knew I was your friend; but now the best thing that can happen is that no one should ever ask anything about me-or who my father was," said Martin, in the same hard, bitter voice.

"I can never be ashamed of calling you my friend,” said Theresa; "it would be too ungrateful."

"Thank you, but there is nothing to be grateful about. Once I thought, though you are as far above me as the stars, that you might one day think a little kindly of me; but I shall never ask it now," and he laid his head on his arms as he leant them on the branch of the old oak.

Theresa stood by, startled, shy, speechless, longing to escape, and yet feeling that she could not go and leave him thus. Presently he looked up.

"This has never been the right place for you," he said; "you want what we cannot give, no, not if I poured out my heart's blood to get it. You do not belong to my sort of folk. Well, I shall bring Shag to the river meadow for you to-night, and see you again then, but let me say goodbye now. I am glad you came to us; it has made all the world a better place to me, though now--good-bye, Resi!"

"Good-bye," she answered, very low, and he made no attempt to keep her as she turned to go; and when she could not help looking back she saw that he had hidden his face again, and she went back to Tannenhof full of pity and a startled self-questioning which she found herself unable to answer. Perhaps at that moment her most distinct feeling was that she detested Josenhans.

CHAPTER XVIII.

"What cannot praise effect in mighty minds,

When flattery soothes, and when ambition blinds?"

-DRYDEN.

T was with no small pain and indignation that
Theresa stole out when all the household but

Dorner and Martin were asleep to escape from

the danger which she had learned was hanging over her. Her own inclination was to remain and brave it, though she knew its peril, for whenever pestilence broke out or the crops failed, or ill luck in any shape set in, the popular remedy was always to seek for the witch who had done it, a pile of faggots was built, and some old woman or young girl fell a victim. In large towns some sort of trial was gone through, though even then superstition was too strong for the accused to have any fair chance of escape; in villages and out-of-the-way places shorter work was made. Dorner knew that if the Alsdorfers and his own people once reached the point of openly accusing Theresa he could not save her, and that already her safety lay in being