ned so far out
of the carriage that his brother seized hold of him, expecting him to
lose his balance and fall out.

"It is she!" exclaimed Bernard. "'Tis the bell of St Nicholas. Listen,
Carl--my Elizabeth calls me. She strikes the bell. I come, dearest, I
come!"

And with these words he sprang out of the carriage, and set off at
full speed towards the town, leaving his brother thunderstruck at his
mad impatience and vehemence.

Running at the top of his speed, Bernard soon reached the city gate,
and proceeded rapidly through the streets in the direction of St
Nicholas's church. It seemed to him as though he had been absent for
years instead of a few days, and he felt quite surprised at finding no
change in the city since his departure. All was as he had left it; all
conspired to lull him into security. An old fruitwoman, of whom he had
bought cherries the very day of his last walk with Elizabeth, was in
her usual place, and, as he passed, extolled the beauty of her fruit,
and asked him to buy. A large rose-tree, at the door of a
silversmith's shop, which Elizabeth had often admired, was still in
full bloom; through the window of a house in the market-place, he saw
a young girl, Elizabeth's dearest friend, dressing her hair at a
looking-glass, and as he passed the churchyard, the old dumb sexton,
who appeared to be hunting about for a place for a grave, nodded his
head in mute recognition.

Bernard opened the tower door, and darted up the staircase. He was not
far from the top when he heard the voices of two men above him. They
were resting on one of the landing-places of the ladderlike stairs.

"It is a singular case, doctor," said one; "a strange and
incomprehensible case. It is evidently a disease more of the mind than
the body."

"Yes," replied the other, by his voice apparently an old man. "If we
could only get a clue to the cause, any thing to go upon, something
might be done, but at present it is a perfect riddle."

Bernard heard no more, for the men continued their ascent.

"The old father must be ill," said he to himself; but as he said it a
feeling of dread and anxiety, a presentiment of evil, came over him,
and he stood for a few moments unable to proceed. The door at the top
of the stairs was now opened, and shut with evident care to avoid
noise. "The old man must be very ill," said Bernard, as if trying to
persuade himself of it. He reached the door, and his hand shook as he
laid it upon the lat