e tales of the wild huntsmen filled her with
dread--then again would she spring to my mother, and burying her head in
her bosom, ask her once more to sing the songs of her native land, for
so we still called Germany; and, as you see, the romances and legends of
that country formed our childhood's lore, my early love for Ella grew
and increased with my years, and I fancied that she loved me.

On the first of May, or, as it was by us styled, "Walburga's eve," the
young German maidens have a custom of seeking a lonely stream, and
flinging on its waters a wreath of early flowers, as an offering to a
spirit which then has power. When, as the legend tells, the face of
their lover will glide along the water, and the name be borne on the
breeze, if the gift be pleasing to the spirit. Ella, I knew, had for
some time been preparing to keep this ancient relic of the pagan
rites--she had a treasured rose tree which bloomed, unexpectedly, early
in the season--these delicate things she fancied would be a fitting
offering to the spirit. She paused not to think of what she was about to
do--the thing itself was but a harmless folly--from aught of ill her
nature would have drawn instinctively; but evil there might have
been--she stayed not to weigh the result--at the last hour of sunset she
wreathed her roses, and set out. In the lightness of my heart I followed
in the same path, intending to surprize her. I heard her clear voice
floating on the air, as she sung the invocation to the spirit--the words
were these:--

Blue-eyed spirit of balmy spring,
Bright young flowers to thee I bring,
Wreaths all tinged with hues divine,
Meet to rest on thy fairy shrine.
With these I invoke thy gentle care,
Queen of the earth and ambient air,
Come with the light of thy radiant skies,
Trace on the stream my true love's eyes,
Show me the face in the silvery deep,
Whose image for aye my heart may keep;
Bid the waters echoing shell,
Whisper the name thy breezes tell.
And still on the feast of Walburga's eve,
Bright young flowers to thee I'll give;
Beautiful spirit I've spoken the spell,
And offered the gift thou lovest well."

The last notes died suddenly away, and Ella, greatly agitated, threw
herself into my arms. I enquired the cause of her terror, and forgetting
her secrecy, she said a face had appeared to her on the stream. Just
then we saw Conrad, who had followed on the same pur