When the hymn was ended, the principal elders and teachers came up to Mauer, greeting him with cordial hand-shakings, and leading him, with words of hearty welcome, to a more prominent seat, from which he could address the congregation.  He bore himself with a firmer carriage to-day, and the dignity of his tall figure was more conspicuous than on the evening before.  With a happy smile, he let his glance roam over the assembly of Brothers and Sisters, many of whom were unknown to him; indeed, the large majority were strange, yet he held each and all dear, as forming a part of his home surroundings.  As he passed up the aisle, between the two elders who conducted him, the door of the chapel opened, and a tardy member entered.  It was Brother Jonathan Fricke.  His manner was even humbler than usual, and his eyes wandered restlessly around:  perhaps he had heard of Brother Mauer’s arrival, and was looking for him.  In the centre of the aisle, which was filled with people, he met the three men.  Jonathan’s glance fell on the tall form of his old friend; he stretched out his hand, and said in a low voice: 

“Do the dead rise, Brother Michael?”

Mauer shrank back at the words; and as he recognized the speaker he grew deathly pale, his eyes dilated with an expression of horror, and he staggered forward.

“You here?” he asked hoarsely, and fell to the ground.

A general confusion ensued.  It seemed but natural that the numerous greetings should have exhausted the over-weary traveller; and then the reunion with his old friend—­it really had been too much for his strength, and the general feeling of sympathy grew deeper.

As they carried him away Carmen, followed to his room; and after long, untiring efforts the old man at last began to revive.  Carmen begged that she might be left alone with him, so that when he came fully to himself he might be undisturbed and see no one but her, at the same time declining all offers of medical assistance from Brother Jonathan.

The girl seated herself by the bedside; and when her father opened his eyes, she noticed he looked anxiously around and then whispered: 

“Child, who was that I last saw in the chapel and who spoke to me?”

“Do not trouble yourself, dear father.  It was only your old friend, Jonathan Fricke,” replied Carmen, soothingly, holding his hand in hers.  She felt a shiver run through him as she mentioned the name.

“I did not know that he was here,” he said with a groan.

“Can I help you in any way, dear father?” his daughter asked.  “Are you in pain?”

He shook his head in reply, and lay quite still, with closed eyes.  After a long time he looked again at Carmen in a troubled, sorrowful way, and sighed deeply.  “Tell me about him,” he murmured.  “I thought he was still in Bethlehem, in America; how came he here, and how long has he been among you?”