beautiful. Was it her sorrow? No! he had seen others quite as sad.
But, whatever it was, Gotleib felt he had met his destiny; the
fulness of his being was developed to him; and, all unconsciously,
the maiden turned to him as the Providence of God to her. She seemed
to rest her troubled heart upon his strong understanding. He said
her mother would not die immediately, and she grew calm.

It was very late that night when Gotleib retired; and very fervent
were the prayers that arose from his heart before he slept. He felt
a sense of gratitude for the uses he was permitted to perform to his
fellow beings, and, in his prayers, he felt that light shone from
the Divine sun upon that sorrowing maiden, and it was as if she
knelt by his side, and his strong spirit-arms upheld her in the
sunshine of God's love.

When the morning came, Gotleib awakened with a delicious sense of
enjoyment in life--with a looking forth into the events of the day,
that he had never before experienced. He hastened through his
morning duties with an elasticity of spirit and hope that was
altogether new to him. Though, as yet, his feeling was not defined
into a thought, it was a faint perception, a dim consciousness that
the elective affinities of his heart had all awakened. And while he
thought he was in an excessive anxiety to see after his feeble
patient, he was borne on rather by the attractions of his heart's
love. He paused in a thrilling excitement of hope and doubt before
the door of the poor chamber--he dreaded to have the agreeable
impressions of the last evening dissipated. But, when he knocked, a
light tread was heard; the door was gently opened, and the pale Anna
stood before him, with such a gentle grace, and so earnest a look of
gratified expectation, that, as she said in subdued tones,

"I hoped it was you," his heart bounded with exultation, to think
that the young girl had him in her thoughts. But, as he approached
the sick bed, his reason told him what was more natural than her
wishing for the arrival of her mother's physician.

A careful glance, by daylight, around the humble apartment, revealed
to Gotleib that Anna worked with her delicate, white, lady-looking
hands, for the support of her dying mother. A table, placed by the
window, was covered with artificial flowers of exquisite
workmanship, and, while he yet lingered in the chamber, Bettina, the
maid, entered from the street door, with a basket filled with the
same flowers-