“Husband, about this?”

“Yes, Anna.”

“Don’t go.  What will he think?”

“Nobody knows about it yet, except Wenck, unless he spoke to Brother Thorn.”

“Oh, Frederick, what are you thinking?”

“I am thinking”—­he paused and looked fixedly at his wife—­“I am thinking that I have been beside myself, Anna—­crazy, out and out, and this thing can’t stand.”

“Husband, it was our wish to learn the will of God concerning this marriage, and we have learned it.  The Lord——­”

“I will go back to the factory,” said Mr. Loretz, turning quickly away from his wife.  “I must see if everything is right there before it gets darker.”  He had caught sight of the tall figure of a woman at the gate when he snatched up his hat so suddenly and interrupted his wife.  Then he turned to her again:  “Is Elise within?”

“No, husband:  she went to the garden for twigs this afternoon.”

“She had not heard?”

“No.  It is Sister Benigna that is coming.  Must you go back?” She poured another glass of water for her husband, and walked down the steps with him; and coming so, out from the shade into the sunlight, Sister Benigna was startled by their faces as though she had seen two ghosts.

Two hours later, Mr. Loretz again turned his steps homeward, and Mr. Wenck, the minister, walked with him as far as the gate.  They had met accidentally upon the sidewalk, and Mr. Loretz must of necessity make some allusion to the letter he had received from the minister that day acquainting him with the allotment which had made of him so hopeless a mourner.  The good man hesitated a moment before making response:  then he took both the hands of Loretz in his, and said in a deep, tender voice, “Brother, the wound smarts.”

“I cannot bear it!” cried Loretz.  “It is all my doing, and I must have been crazy.”

“When in devout faith you sought to know God’s will concerning your dear child?”

“I cannot talk about it,” was the impatient response.  “And you cannot understand it,” he continued, turning quickly upon his companion.  “You have never had a daughter, and you don’t understand Albert Spener.”

“I think,” said the minister patiently—­“I think I know him well enough to see what the consequence will be if he should suspect that Brother Loretz is like ‘a wave of the sea, driven with the wind and tossed.’”

Yet as the minister said this his head drooped, his voice softened, and he laid his hand on the shoulder of Mr. Loretz, as if he would fain speak on and in a different strain.  It was evident that the distressed man did not understand him, and reproof or counsel was more than he could now bear.  He walked on a little faster, and as he approached his gate voices from within were heard.  They were singing a duet from The Messiah.

“Come in,” said Loretz, his face suddenly lighting up with almost hope.