rd expressed the lover's ardent longing, every line was pervaded
by the passion that had filled the writer's heart. Often the prose of
the young scholar, who as a pupil of Doctor Groot had won his bride in
Delft, rose to a lofty flight.

While reading, Maria saw in imagination Jacoba's pretty face, and the
handsome, enthusiastic countenance of her bridegroom. She remembered
their gay wedding, her brother-in-law's impetuous friend, so lavishly
endowed with every gift of nature, who had accompanied him to Holland to
be his groomsman, and at parting had given her the rose which lay before
her in the little casket. No voice had ever suited hers so well; she
had never heard language so poetical from any other lips, never had eyes
that sparkled like the young Thuringian noble's looked into hers.

After the wedding Georg von Dornberg returned home and the young couple
went to Haarlem. She had heard nothing from the young foreigner, and
her sister and her husband were soon silenced forever. Like most of the
inhabitants of Haarlem, they were put to death by the Spanish destroyers
at the capture of the noble, hapless city. Nothing was left of her
beloved sister except a faithful memory of her, and her betrothed
bridegroom's letters, which she now held in her hand.

They expressed love, the true, lofty love, that can speak with the
tongues of angels and move mountains. There lay her husband's letter.
Miserable scrawl! She shrank from opening it again, as she laid the
beloved mementoes back into the box, yet her breast heaved as she
thought of Peter. She knew too that she loved him, and that his faithful
heart belonged to her. But she was not satisfied, she was not happy, for
he showed her only tender affection or paternal kindness, and she wished
to be loved differently. The pupil, nay the friend of the learned Groot,
the young wife who had grown up in the society of highly educated men,
the enthusiastic patriot, felt that she was capable of being more,
far more to her husband, than he asked. She had never expected gushing
emotions or high-strung phrases from the grave man engaged in vigorous
action, but believed he would understand all the lofty, noble sentiments
stirring in her soul, permit her to share his struggles and become the
partner of his thoughts and feelings. The meagre letter received to-day
again taught her that her anticipations were not realized.

He had been a faithful friend of her father, now numbered with the