"Yesterday now is a part of forever;
Bound up in a sheaf which God holds tight.
With glad days and sad days and bad days, which never
Shall visit us more with their bloom and their blight,
Their fullness of sunshine or sorrowful night.
Let them go, since we can not relieve them,
Can not undo and can not atone;
God in his mercy forgive and receive them!
Only the new days are our own:
To-day is ours, and to-day alone."
--SUSAN COOLIDGE.
A nipping hoar-frost brought Wulf back to Berlin. Here he made
strenuous efforts to obtain some news of Sibylla, but in vain. No
one knew where she resided. That she was in the city he never
dreamed, and therefore did not seek her there. He wrote to Theodora
in the Swiss mountains; but either the letter had failed to reach
her, or she had been obliged to make inquiries herself; for no answer
came.
During this period he was not idle. He began his medical practice,
and endeavored to establish a home of his own. Still he did not
cater to the higher classes of society. His inclinations led him
where there was the most misery. Should he be able to fulfill his
uncle's expectations, and become a physician to the poor? It seemed
so; for he was oftenest seen in the cellars and tenements, and
rejoiced that this class of people reposed confidence in him.
It was toward evening, one day, when he called upon a poor, sick
woman. Entering the cellar, he was obliged to wait a moment until
his eyes grew accustomed to the dim, gloomy light, before he could
distinguish any thing. The husband met him at the door, and Wulf
inquired after the wife, whose groans now reached him in reply.
"Has she so much pain?" asked Wulf.
"No; but she has a wound in the knee, which is just being dressed."
Wulf approached the sufferer. At the foot of the bed, knelt a
womanly figure, binding the wound, with her head bent deeply over the
work. He looked at her keenly, but the room was so dark he could
only distinguish the outline.
"Bring a light," he said, firmly.
When the husband had succeeded in finding one, the place by the bed
was vacant.
"Who bound your leg?" asked Wulf, quickly.
"My good angel," moaned the woman.
"What is her name?" continued the young physician, so impatiently
that her husband replied in some alarm: "She has been coming here a
long while, and she lives near."
"But her name?"
"Frau Bolton; and she is very good."
The intuition which flashed through his mind and heart when he
entered this room was then correct! He felt like rushing forth
instantly, but he controlled the impulse. With a calmness
inexplicable to himself he gave orders for the sick woman's relief.
He knew Sibylla had recognized him, and he should find her. As he
came out he saw a woman walking slowly before him. O, he could
identify that figure among thousands! He quickened his steps; the
young woman seemed absorbed in deep thought. Suddenly a manly voice
said to her.
"Sibylla, dear Sibylla!"