emembrance of him whom you have forgotten
never fall across your heart like some black shadow."

"Never," cried Angelica, while the tears ran down her cheeks, "never
can I forget Moritz. Never; oh! never can I love as I loved _him_! What
I feel for the Count is something totally different. I cannot explain
how it is that the Count has made me feel this irresistible attachment
to him; but feel it I do, in every fibre of my being. It is not that I
love him: I do not; I cannot love him in the way I loved Moritz; but
I feel as if I could not, and cannot live apart from him--without
him--independently of him. That it is only through him that I can think
and feel. A spirit voice seems perpetually enjoining me to cleave to
him as a wife; telling me that I _must_ do so, and that unless I do
there is no further, or other life possible for me here below. And I
obey this voice, which I believe to be the mysterious prompting of
Providence."

The maid here came in to say that Marguerite, who had been missing
since the early part of the morning, had not made her appearance yet,
but that the Gardener had just brought a little note which she had
given him, with instructions to deliver it when he had finished his
work and taken the last of the flowers to the Castle. It was as
follows:--

"You will never see me more; a dark mystery drives me from your house.
I implore you--you, who have been to me as a tender mother--not to have
me followed, or brought back by force. My second attempt to kill myself
will be more successful than the first. May Angelica enjoy to the full
that bliss, the idea of which pierces my heart. Farewell for ever!
Forget the unfortunate Marguerite."

"What is this?" cried Madame von G----; "the poor soul seems to have
set her whole mind upon destroying our happiness. Must she always come
in your way just as you are going to give your hand to the man of your
choice? Let her go; the foolish, ungrateful thing, whom I treated and
cared for as if she had been my own daughter. I shall certainly never
trouble my head about her any more."

Angelica cried bitterly at the loss of her whom she had looked on as a
sister; her mother implored her not to waste a thought on the foolish
creature at such an important time.

The guests were assembled in the _salon_, ready, as soon as the
appointed hour should come, to go to the little chapel where a catholic
priest was to marry the couple. The Colonel led in the bride. Everyone