At last he rose, stepped silently up to her, and laid his hand on her head.
She clasped him in her arms.

There they stood, leaning against each other, two friends who had so shared their lives that each knew the other's thoughts without a spoken word.
Tenderly stroking his sister's hair, the merchant began: "You know what large dealings we have with Fink's father ?" "I know that you are not satisfied with the son." "I could not help taking him into our house, but I regret the hour I did so." "Do not be hard upon him," pleaded the sister, kissing her brother's hand; "think how much there is that is noble in his character." "I am not unjust toward him.

But it is yet to be proved whether he will be a blessing or a curse to his fellow-men.

He may become a more paltry aristocrat, who wastes his energies in refined self-indulgence, or a covetous, unscrupulous money-maker, like his uncle in America." "He is not heartless!" murmured Sabine; "his friendship for Wohlfart shows that." "He does but play with him--throws him into the water, and picks him out again." "Nay," cried Sabine; "he esteems his good sense and high principles, and feels that he has a better nature than his own." "Do not deceive yourself and me," replied the merchant; "I know the fascination that this strange man has long had for you.

I have said nothing, for I could trust you.