The walk was not long to the parsonage, a low rambling cottage, with deep windows and overhanging roof, embowered in trees and fragrant with the breath of flowers.  All this we took in at a look, and without any break in the talk, taking us back as it did to the day when we bade good-by to the college and its professors, and shook hands with each other for the last time.  Looking into Wagner’s face it did not seem so long ago; while I, floating round the world, had gathered experience enough to make me feel, if not look, something older.  At the porch we were met by Maude, her slight girlish figure rounded into the perfection of womanhood, the rich bloom of her cheek not quite as deep perhaps; but the sweet blue eyes met mine with all the old frankness, the charming naivete that had rendered her so much a favorite when a child.

Sitting there in the lessening light it all came back; the old university at Basle, and above all, the old professor, Maude’s father, whom we all loved.

“His place is well filled, and still we miss him,” said Wagner.

There were tears in the young wife’s eyes, and rising hastily she disappeared into the house.  A few moments later she appeared, her face smiling and glad, a very sweet-faced babe clasped in her arms, another tugging at her gown.  “Allow me to show my treasures,” she said, as she seated herself beside me.  Hours passed as hours will when friends have been separated for years.  Then came a summons to tea; and after that Maude put up her jewels, and the pastor introduced me to his study.  Summer though it was, a bright fire of sticks was burning on the hearth; bright, but not too bright to exclude the outside view.  Slowly the purple curtain drooped over the mountains, falling lower and lower, until the small village, the tiled roofs, and the wooden spire were wrapped in a cloud of dusky haze.

“You have wondered why I content myself here, when a professorship was offered me at Basle,” said Wagner at length.  “It was a temptation, I allow; and when I thought of Maude and the social position from which I had taken her, I hesitated.  She did not, however.  ’These people love you, and your preaching is blessed to them.  I am afraid if you leave, there will be no one else; and one soul saved outweighs all their professorships.’  It was sweetly said, and I knew by the look on her face that her heart was in keeping with her words, and I answered her accordingly.”

It was late, and the next day would be the Sabbath.  Maude joined us, when a hymn was sung and a prayer offered, and we slept.

The sun was shining when I awoke, and opening my lattice I looked away to, the mountains, their white heads mellowed with a glory that inspired only thoughts of that God who made all things, and who holds them by the power of his might.  There was a stir in the village, just enough to show the inhabitants were not sleeping away the precious hours.  A cheerful, calm reigned, in keeping with the hallowed day; the