it was hard for a bashful boy to speak out before them

all.

“My lord, if I saw ill being done, and a woman or child ill used and in need of an arm to strike for them, I would do my best; but if I am not plainly called to fight, I would not willingly lift my hand against those who are of my own blood and tongue."

"Happy are those who can choose, good lad," said the guest, sighing; "and we need pastors and schoolmasters as much as soldiers. It may be that you will have your wish, and do good work yet."

Theresa looked from one to the other with a flash in her eyes which spoke of measureless disdain for Martin's peaceful sentiments.

The meal had long ended, and yet they still sat talking and listening; she was the only one who wearied of the conversation. To her, in her sick-hearted impatience, it seemed endless, and even when they rose, and she was hoping to slip away to darkness and silence, she found that the household were preparing for evening worship. Uncertain what strange ceremonies Lutherans might indulge in, she sat bolt upright, with wide open, startled eyes; but her attention was arrested, and her alarm relieved, by the reverent earnestness of Faber, as he began to read from the great Bible, a heavy volume, the chief household treasure, usually concealed in the seat of Dame Martha's leathern chair, as the safest hiding-place in the dwelling. Prayer followed, such a prayer for help, and comfort, and faith as

thrilled every heart there, and soothed even Theresa's, brim

ful of rebellion and despair as it was. She did not know it, but the young minister was especially thinking of her, poor waif and stray, all that was left of Mühlbach. Luther's hymn rose up from every voice but hers, and even her sick spirit felt the power of that full and fervent strain, in which the rich tenor of the guest blended in tones exquisitely cultivated with the deep bass of the farmer and his men, and the trebles of the women. "Ein fester burg -a sure stronghold! For that night, at all events, every member of the household felt the mighty support of that confidence, and slept without fear.

Theresa found herself sent to a little closet of a room, with scant ceremony, by Dore, who unanimously with Rosel had declined to let her share their garret, a sentiment too sympathetic to Dame Martha for her to make any objection. Solitude was only too welcome to Theresa, and the change of room too utterly indifferent to her for any curiosity to be awakened by it, though Dore was burning to tell her its cause, and was quite vexed that her hints dropped unheeded. Sleep came less quickly on this night than the last to the wanderer; she heard the owls hooting to each other in the oak tree out into whose great arms her window looked, and Flink barking at a fox which was prowling past, and all the other dogs responding, and then Dorner and Faber respectfully accompanying the strange noble to his room, and retiring again; but long after they were gone she could hear a murmur which made her suppose he had a companion,

though she distinguished no words. Her little closet was adjoining his chamber, and she wondered with whom he was conversing. By-and-by she caught a sentence, more earnestly spoken than the rest; he was repeating the thought which he had expressed in the forest. "Alas!" she heard him exclaim, "Thou knowest that to our darkened eyes Thy mill-stones grind over slowly: we believe, but help Thou our unbelief;" and then she thought he uttered a petition for all who had to rule in these distracted times. She distinguished no more, but she knew now that he was praying as men pray when their hearts are very full.

When she awoke the next day it was late. No one had disturbed her; either they had forgotten her, or let her have her sleep out. The guest was gone; Faber had accompanied him to the hamlet of Alsdorf, where some of his people met him, after having vainly and anxiously sought him in the forest, and he had gone on to Aarberg, a castle some twenty miles off, where lived Graf Aarberg, and his wife, the Gräfin Ida, a distant cousin of the princely house of Gotha, and worthy of her lineage. It was said to be chiefly owing to her influence that her husband had shown himself a staunch adherent of the Reformed cause, through good and ill, since by nature he was weak and easily swayed, and not a man likely to endure a long period of ill fortune. Faber had returned just before Theresa entered the room where they had all supped, and was speaking to Dorner. She stood uncertain where to go, or what to do next, and they did not perceive her. She heard Dorner say—

"A most noble and fair gentleman. Have you no guess as to his name?"

"I need not to guess it," answered the young minister, with a smile, for I knew him at once; he is no man to be forgotten, though one may have seen him but once, and that not nigh; but since he was not pleased to name himself, it befitted not me to proclaim his degree."

"Who then

began Dorner; and Martin, who had hitherto listened silently, exclaimed—

"There is but one man so gentle and so princely in all the land! Surely I guess not amiss ?"

"Why, lad, whom dost thou mean ?" said his uncle.

"Ay, Martin lad, I see thou know'st him now, and well do thy words fit him; gentle and princely is he indeed, as you all have seen. Yes, Master Dorner, it was Duke Ernst the Godly whom we brought home to Tannenhof last night."

CHAPTER VII.

"But let the ungentle spirit learn from hence
A small unkindness is a great offence."

-H. MORE.

T was late autumn when Pfarrer Faber brought
Duke Ernst to Tannenhof, and March was ended

before he came again. The winter had been a hard one, but the deep snow which blocked all the paths, and lay in drifts far higher than a man's head along the fences, and loaded the plumy boughs of the old fir-trees of Tannenhof, ensured some months of peace and safety to the countryside. Those snowy, freezing months had been a hard time to the wild animals, and many had doubtless perished; the roe deer, forgetting their timid caution in their hunger, came to nibble the hay stacks in the farmyard, and Martin would not let the dogs be loose at night lest they should drive them away. The wolves were heard howling through the darkness, and leaping up at the windows of the well-closed stables, causing the cattle and horses within no small alarm: tracks of wild animals and birds were seen all over the snow; birds came by hundreds

H