The satchel, in spite of its small size, was much too heavy for her little hands to hold.  Willibald was, for the first time in his life, seized with a knightly impulse, and declared the satchel was much too heavy for her, and that he would carry it to the house for her.  She accepted his courtesy with a careless nod of approval, and turning hastily, went through the small, well-kept garden to the back door of the little old-fashioned house, on which the long afternoon shadows were lingering.  Now for the first time, the new-comer was seen from within, and an elderly woman started out from the little kitchen, crying: 

“Fraeulein!  Fraeulein Marietta, you have come to-day.  Ah, what joy, what—­”

Marietta flew toward her and put her hand over her mouth.

“Hush! hush!  Babette.  Speak softly, I want to surprise grandpapa.  Is he at home?”

“Yes, the Herr Doctor is at home and is in his study.  Will you go right in, Fraeulein?”

“No, I’ll go into the front room and play a soft accompaniment, and sing him his favorite song!  Be careful, Babette, he must not hear us.”

She went in on tiptoe, as noiselessly as an elf, across the old hall, and softly opened the door of a little, low-ceilinged corner room; Babette, who, overcome by joy and surprise, had not noticed the stranger standing in the shadow, followed her dear Fraeulein.  The door was left open, and Willibald could hear a cover laid back cautiously and a chair pushed gently in place.  Then she began a low prelude.  The sounds which the old worn out spinet gave forth were tremulous and thin, and made one think of an ancient harp; but the maiden’s voice recalled the lark’s song of rejoicing.

The singing was not long continued, for a door opposite was opened hastily, and an old man with white hair appeared upon the threshold.

“Marietta! my Marietta, is it really you?”

“Grandpapa!” cried the young girl exultantly, as she ceased her song and rushed forward to throw herself in the old man’s arms.

“You bad child.  Why did you frighten me so?” he said, tenderly.  “I did not expect you until day after to-morrow, and intended going to the railway station to meet you.  When I heard your voice so suddenly just now, I believed my ears had deceived me.”

The girl laughed out gaily like an excited child.

“Ah, I have succeeded in surprising you, grandpapa, haven’t I?  I came up the back road, but the wheels stuck so in the mud that I had to get out and walk part of the way.  I came in through the garden and by the back door—­well, Babette, what is it?”

“Fraeulein, the carrier is still waiting with the satchel,” Babette had just discovered that a stranger was on the premises.  “Shall I give him money for a drink and let him go?”

The young man, thus designated as the carrier, still stood, satchel in hand, awaiting Marietta’s pleasure.  Dr. Volkmar turned at once, and recognizing who it was, cried in a frightened tone: