“May I ask, sir, if you have any news yet of our young lady?”

Gustave shook his head.  “Not the least scrap of news, mother Bess.  My search has been fruitless.”

“That is unlucky, sir.  God knows where she may be and what she is suffering.  She told me before she went away that she meant to work for her father; but one must have learned to work very early in life to earn a living by one’s hands.  My heart almost breaks when I think of it.  Perhaps that good, sweet young lady is reduced to work for other people and labors like a slave to get a mouthful of bread!  I have been a servant, sir, and I know what it is to work from morning until night for others.  And she,—­she who is so beautiful, so clever, so kind!  Oh, sir, it is terrible!  I can’t help crying like a child, thinking of her miserable life!”

Gustave was overcome by the simple eloquence of the poor woman, and remained silent.

“And then to think,” continued Bess, “she might now be so happy! that she might again become mistress of Grinselhof, where she was born and grew up! that her father might pass his old days in quietness, and that they are now wandering about the world poor, sick, abandoned outcasts!  Oh, sir, it is sad to know that our benefactors are unhappy, and to be able to do nothing for them but pray to God and hope for his mercy!”

The simple-minded woman, without meaning it, had touched some tender strings in Gustave’s heart; and, as she saw the silent tears coursing their way down his cheeks, she said, entreatingly,—­

“Oh, pardon me, sir, for having grieved you so by my talk! but my heart is full, and my feelings force their way without knowing it.  If I have done wrong, I am sure you are too kind to be angry with me for loving our young lady so much and bemoaning her misfortune.  Have you no orders for me to-day, sir?”

She was about to go, as Gustave raised his downcast eyes and, restraining his tears, exclaimed,—­

“I—­angry with you, mother Bess?—­and angry, too, because you show affection for our poor Lenora?  Oh, no, no!  On the contrary, I bless you for it with all my heart!  The tears you betrayed from my heart have done me good; for I am very unhappy.  Life is a burden; and if God, in his mercy, would take me away from earth, I would gladly die.  All hope of seeing her again in this world is gone.  Perhaps she is awaiting me in the next!”

“Oh, sir! sir! how you talk!” cried the peasant-woman, in alarm.  “No! no! that cannot be!”

“You grieve, my good woman, and shed tears for her,” continued Gustave, without heeding the interruption; “but don’t you see how my soul must be consumed with despair?  Alas! for months and months I have implored God for the happiness of seeing her once more!  I overcame all obstacles to our marriage, and I became almost mad with joy and impatience as I flew like lightning to the home where I left her; and then my only recompense, my only consolation,