Oh, father! here is Dr. Bauer bringing a dead man to us!"

"Dead?" cried Hans in dismay.

"Dead or fainting," said Lisa, "some accident must have happened-how unlucky that granny should be from home! Why, I do believe . . . Yes, father! it is Claude!"

The next moment, the poor colporteur was in the strong arms of Hans, who bore him into the kitchen as tenderly as if he had been an infant. Lisa, all in tears, obeyed Dr. Bauer's directions for his recovery; and the peasants, seeing their aid was no longer wanted, retired, after tying up the horse.

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SILEN

laying his finger on his lips, as Claude opening his eyes, and looking round somewhat wildly, was about to speak. For a moment, the colporteur's mind was all in confusion; but, the next instant, the sensation of pain and weakness at his chest, his loosened collar, the drops of water scattered on his face, the current of air blowing in on him, his recumbent posture, and the kind faces hanging over him, explained everything. He was content to be silent; he felt supremely happy.

"I am bound to pay particular attention to this poor fellow's case," said Dr. Bauer, apologetically to Hans, "because he got this hurt in my service.

The best way would be to remove him to the in firmary, if it were not so full; for I suppose you cannot accommodate him very easily here."

"Do not think of removing him," said Hans,

'he is a valued friend of ours, and was doubtless on his way to us when the accident occurred-we can't think of parting with him."

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In that case, all is straightforward work,” said the doctor; "keep him still and cool, and perfectly quiet, and give him nothing but cooling drinks—' Lisa silently gave him a little lemon-water

-" And I will look in on him in the morning. It will do him no harm to remain on this settle all night. Your mother is not at home, I know, for she sat up last night with a patient of mine, but I shall be just in time to catch her before she leaves town, and will give her a pastrycook's ice; and a piece of block ice to pound and lay on his chest in case the hemorrhage returns. Farewell."

Claude

And pressing Claude's hand kindly, he nodded to Hans and Lisa, and left the cottage. was on the point of speaking; but Lisa, with a smile, held up her finger to forbid him, and sitting down on a stool by his side, with the lemon-water still in her hand, regarded him with

kind concern. He replied by a look so full of thankfulness and tenderness, that the modest colour rose in her cheeks; but it died away the next moment, softly and imperceptibly, and the simplicity of her affectionate attention remained unimpaired. Hans now came from seeing the doctor ride off, and sat down by him.

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Though you may not talk to us,” said he, we may talk to you, if we don't talk too much or too loud; and I shall begin by saying how heartily glad I am, (and I am sure Lisa is the same,) to see you again under our roof. We have often talked of you, I promise you, and wondered whether we should ever see you again. My mother and Lisa thought not, but I always had a fancy that some day or other you would find us out. Many strange things have happened in your absence."

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Better not tell him to-night, perhaps," said Lisa, gently.

"Well, perhaps you are right; though I thought he might sleep the better for knowing. However, Claude, you may, at all events, know that I have studied your blessed Bible day and night, ever since I saw you last; and you will

doubtless be glad to hear that though I have given up making shrines for Diana,' I have plenty of cabinet-work, and never was more prosperous."

"Here come the boys," said Lisa; "perhaps, father, it will be better-" and she whispered to him the remainder of the sentence. Hans nodded approval.

"Don't you go," said he, "I'll see to it myself, for you are the better nurse.' And went out.

"And now," said Lisa, "I shall take up my sewing, and sit here quite quietly, so that you can sign to me for anything you want; and if you have any long speech to make, you can write it on this slate; but I think the best thing you can do will be to go to sleep.-Stay, I can make your pillow a little more comfortable-Granny will come home by-and-by, and be a better nurse than I am."

As she smoothed his pillow, she saw his eyes, which had hitherto continually followed her, turn towards the empty niche in the opposite wall.

"Ah," said she softly, "that's gone now-I know what you miss. . . . And, Claude," lowering her voice, and hesitating a little, "I don't pray to St. Anne now."

S