News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1893-01-12

pared with this, the offence of which
was really guilty seemed but a pet
ty and childish thing.
My anger grew still greater when
another servant suggested that
Catherine might have hidden the
diamonds in her hair, and | saw the
poor girl as pale as death with her
braids all unbound.
Of course the counselor found moth
ing on Catherine or me. | remember
in that parting | said to the young
girl: "Be patient; | will make up
to you all you have suffered through
me-"
The affrOnt l had suffered paralyzed
! my conscience.
sought often to see Catherine, but
seldom successfully. She was afraid
that, if we were seen together, it
would cause fresh suspicion. One
| day, however, she met me with a
joyful expression, and said:
"GOd be thanked. We are now
completely justified. My masters
sister has written him that she for
got to put the brooch into the cas-
ket"
"And is not the counselor going to
beg my pardon?"
''He wished me to do so +" she re-
piled, land asked me to do so for
him." At the same time she begged
me to harbOr no resentment because
of what had happened to me.
You may have committed some
secret fault, said she. accept what
you have suffered as an affliction."
| never felt so happy before. | told
Catherine that | would yet be rich
and would give her beautiful car
riage, harnessed to four horses, and
she promised to be faithful to me,
should l come for her on foot. The
thing | had done still seemed moth
ing in comparison with the humilia-
tion which | had suffered.
Palm Sunday having come, | de-
cided, at the instance of the Palatin,
to draw my money, in order to try
my fortune in the world and make
Catherine my wife. / wished the
Palatin to accompany me to the
bank, but he refused.
| entered the counting room. Coun-
selOr Menninger was there. At first
| was frightened, and then the sight
of him gave me new courage. He
was the man who had insulted me.
While waiting the sweat trickled
down my limbs, and my book stuck
to my fingers as if it never could be
shaken off.
At last my turn came. The coun-
selOr put on his spectacles, and looked
at my book. | could hear no sound
but the ticking of the clock. My
heat beat hard against my side.
"YOu have been very economical"
said the counselor. "Will you have
coin or paper? .
| said | would have paper, and he
gave me a littl roll of notes on each
of which was written, 100 crowns"
| trembled so that | could hardly
hold these notes in my hands, and
when he asked me if the right sum
was there, | could only nod in the
affirmative. Suddenly he looked at
tentively at me. Are you not the
lOcksmith," he asked, "whom l sum
/ mOned ON Christmas Eve.
"Yes," said /.
81 am delighted to see you again,
l beg you to forgive my unjust sus-
piciOn Of you, which must have caused
you pain. 1t would give me great
pleasure if [ could render you a SER
vice. But what is the matter? Are
you ill?"
fell on my knees, crying, "No, no;
| am a scoundrel. Take back your
And | told him all.
The counselor was a good man. He
saw my despair and spoke to me
kindly. My dangerous companion
was obliged to leave the city. l was
affianced to Catherine in the cOun-
selor's house, and he aided me to es-
tabished myself in the city. | ought
to add, that before | left the savings
bank l burned my book.-From the
German in Romance.