seemed that
some innermost feeling of her nature shrank from the idea of the sister
dancing while the brother, homeless and friendless, might at that very
moment be driven by despair to end his life. For that it would come to
this at last, was the one spectral thought that cast its shadow over
the mother's soul both in her waking and sleeping hours.

The house that had belonged to the Amthors for many generations, was a
narrow three-storied antique building, with wainscoted walls and
ceilings, and handsomely furnished with old silk tapestry and heavy
hangings. On the ground-floor were the offices and the room in which
dwelt the old man-servant and the faithful maid by whom the work of the
house was done. Above were the rooms inhabited by the mother and
daughter, which opened at the back upon the garden; and in the third
story were what had been the late councillor's library and study, and
of later years rooms entirely devoted to Andreas. The chamber where his
bed stood had not since his departure been entered by any one but the
old maid-servant. His mother never set her foot in it, and if his
sister crept by it to take a book from the library, she held her breath
as she passed the door as though it were haunted.

Our story begins on a September evening--on the very day that
Lisabethli had completed her nineteenth year. In honour of the
anniversary, her mother had invited some half-dozen of the girl's
favourite companions and what with singing and other amusements, which
the grave matron left the young people to carry on alone, the hour of
ten had struck unobserved. Indeed the girls, who after a very sultry
day were still pacing the garden walks arm in arm, deep in important
confidential talk, might easily have forgot time till midnight, if a
storm that had gathered on the other side of the river had not scared
them in. And once in, they found that their respective attendants had
come for them with lanterns, and so kisses and good-byes were heartily
exchanged, and in the great room looking out on the terrace the usual
stillness prevailed, when the first roll of thunder resounded through
the darkness.

Frau Helena had joined her daughter, who stood in the open doorway
looking down, beyond the dark steps leading into the garden, to the
river Aar, lost in vague, dream-like thoughts, such as are wont to
succeed a festive day when the soul is once more free to retire into
itself. She gently laid her hand on her daughter's