olution to renounce the world, and to assume the priestly vow. You
also, elevated and pious, have struggled, and have returned to the
world. I place my heart, my soul, my soul's salvation in your hand.
Here, on this consecrated spot, come with me into the chapel." He
seized her hand, and at the same moment, Eric cried:--

"Fraeulein Manna!"

"What's the matter? What do you want?" exclaimed Pranken.

"Fraeulein Manna, your father wants me to tell you that yonder is a
boundary-stone convenient for you to mount your horse."

"I shall not ride again, I shall walk back to the house," replied
Manna; and turning round, whether she knew that Pranken was not
following her, or did not know it, she went on with Eric. After they
had gone some distance, turning round she saw Pranken still standing
motionless in the place, and she called to him to come with them.

In spite of all urging, she would not mount her horse, but walked the
whole distance in her heavy riding-dress.

She said nothing; there was a strange look of defiance in her
countenance.

She locked herself in her room, and wept and prayed for a long time.

The struggle had come sooner than she thought, and she seemed to
herself all unarmed. Pranken had a right to address her in that way.
And would it not be better that she should enter into life? At this
thought she looked around, as if she must ask Eric what he thought of
this conclusion, what opinion he would form of this fickleness. Again
she looked around, and it seemed to her that Eric had come into the
room with her, and still she was alone.

It was a severe conflict, and only this one point was gained, that she
would no longer allow herself to be robbed of herself by such
distractions.

A boat-sail upon the Rhine had been appointed for the evening. Manna,
who had promised to go, now positively declined. She stood at the
window of her silent chamber without opening it, and she wished that it
was grated. She saw the gentlemen and the ladies go down to the river,
and heard Lina singing a beautiful song accompanied by a fine manly
voice.

Who is that?

It is not Pranken, nor Roland; it can be no other than Eric.

On the boat, Lina requested Eric to sing the "Harper's Song," set to
music by Schubert. Eric considered it entirely inappropriate to sing
aloud here, in a joyous company upon the Rhine, the plaint of a sorely
burdened soul breathed out to the lonely night.

But Lina persisted, and Eric sang,-