nd form of
marble. Steps and voices, which had been heard a moment before, die away
in the distance. He whom she had so passionately invoked stands before
her; he presses her not to his heart, but she hears the whisper: 'I AM
HERE!'

She blooms into new life, and with a melancholy smile of wondrous
sweetness, murmurs:

'I knew, I knew thou wouldst be with me in this solemn hour. Dost thou
curse me in thy heart? But hear me: no one approaches, we are alone, I
may yet have time to tell thee all. When they led me to the church, I
sought thee everywhere; when I kneeled before the altar, I could only
seek thee with my soul, my eyes were too dim with tears for sight; and
when, on my return to the castle--they felicitated me, I listened for
thy voice to thunder o'er them all! And even here, where each moment was
freighted with coming shame and anguish, my faith never left me. I sat
in utter torpor, but my soul saw thee in thy flight across the distant
hills, my heart felt thee as thou camest through the gardens and up the
terraced way. What I divined is true, Give me thy hand--I am saved!
saved!'

Gracefully as the light sprays of the willow, she sways toward him, and
trustfully leans on his strong arm.

Who has ever felt in dreams his soul torn from hell, and borne by angels
into heaven? Who has ever known what it was to be God's own child for a
fleeting moment--felt the lightning flash of heaven-bliss gleam through
his heart? He had expected to meet one faithless to her vows; but as the
voice of simple truth and love thrills through his innermost being, he
grows omnipotent, immortal. His youth only begins from this hour! it
soars aloft--one wing is love, the other glory; his ashes shall be
worthy to mingle with those of his fathers! He will return to his
deserted comrades, and she, the beloved, will follow him, for does not
she, now clinging in holy trust to his arm, seem willing to give into
his hands the whole web of her future destiny? Its threads shall be of
gold, and the sun of love shall shine ever upon it. Weave the brilliant
mist in glittering woof, O glowing imagination of youth I Beautiful
cloud-dreams, which the setting sun of life paints and flushes with his
dying rays!

But suddenly awaking from his fevered visions, he cries: 'Why hast thou
set this ring on thy finger? Would it not have been far better to have
sought refuge in the mountains, than to have bound thyself to another by
the holy sacrament of m