“Mother Bess,” said Monsieur De Vlierbeck, calmly, “we have come to bid you good-by.”

Bess stared a moment anxiously at the travellers, and, lifting her apron to her eyes, left the apartment; while the servant-maid leaned her head against the window-frame and began to sob as if her heart would break.  In a short time Bess returned with her husband, whom she had found in the barn.

“Alas! is it true, sir,” said the farmer, in a stifled voice,—­“is it true that you are going to leave Grinselhof, and that, perhaps, we shall never see you again?”

“Come, come, mother Bess,” said the poor bankrupt, as he took and pressed her hand; “don’t weep on that account; you see we bear our lot with resignation.”

Bess raised her head, threw her eyes once more over the humble dress of her old master, and began to cry so violently that she could not utter a word.  Her husband strove manfully to repress his emotion; and, after an effort or two, addressed Monsieur De Vlierbeck in a manly way:—­

“May I ask the favor of you, sir, to let me say a word or two to you in private?”

De Vlierbeck entered the adjoining room, where he was followed by the farmer, who shut the door carefully.

“I hardly dare, sir,” said he, “to mention my request; but will you pardon me if it displeases you?”

“Speak out frankly, my friend,” returned De Vlierbeck, with a smile.

“Look you, sir,” stammered the tender-hearted laborer.  “Every thing that I have earned I owe to you.  I had nothing when I married Bess; and yet, with your kindness, we have managed to succeed.  God’s mercy and your favor have made us prosperous; while you, our benefactors, have become unfortunate and are forced to wander away from their home,—­God knows where!  You may be forced to suffer privations and want; but that must not be:  I would reproach myself as long as I live.  Oh, sir!” continued he, as his voice faltered and his eyes filled with tears, “all that I have on earth is at your service!”

De Vlierbeck pressed the hard hand of the rustic with a trembling grasp, as he replied,—­

“You are a worthy man indeed, and I am, happy that it was once in my power to protect and serve you; but I cannot accept your offer, my friend:  keep what you have earned by the sweat of your brow, and do not concern yourself for our future fate, for, with God’s help, we shall find means to live.”

“Oh, sir,” said the farmer, beseechingly, and clasping his hands in an attitude of entreaty, “do not reject the trifle I offer you;”—­he opened a drawer and pointed to a small heap of silver.—­“See!” said he; “that is not the hundredth part of the good you have done us.  Grant me this favor, I beseech you:  take this money, sir; and if it spare you a single suffering or trial I shall thank God for it on my knees!”

Tears streamed down the wan and wrinkled cheeks of the poor gentleman as he replied,—­