sinking under sorrows she thinks she has deserved—in her situation too!"
"Dear master, dear Sir," cried Ernest, "I beg you to take comfort, the worst is now past, I am sure, I know my late good master forgave you in his heart, his mind never, never, harboured eternal displeasure and resentment. Things are contrary to my expectation; but—I dare not say all I think, nor will it avail now; but I beseech you, Sir, to hasten home to your poor dwelling, from whence you shall quickly return with all that is dear to you; I will prepare every thing, and then follow you."—With a heavy sigh that seemed to burst his heart-strings, a look of inexpressible grief, Ferdinand wrung his hand, and with slow and trembling steps repaired to his humble habitation in the suburbs of Baden, about a mile from the Castle of Renaud.
When his footsteps reached the threshold, he stopped, and paused: "The truth will
