ealizing
it!"

* * * * * *

It is night-time. She stands upon the summit of a hill alone, and her
figure looks weird and ghostly in the silver moonlight. Her head is
thrown back, her lips parted breathlessly; her whole attitude bespeaks
eager and intense expectation. She is waiting and watching for the
desire of her heart.

'She overlooks the city, now wrapped in slumber. Green plains stretch
away in the dim distance, and the moon throws its light upon her
upturned face, making fantastic shadows around her. Hark! From yonder
tree the nightingale trills out her midnight song. She listens and
does not move, but hears it to the end. It ceases, and the wind rushes
through the long grass at her feet, and shakes the leaves above, even
venturing with its lawless impudence to buffet her fair brow, and
scatter her brown locks across her eyes. A deep sigh escapes from her
heaving breast. "It is hopeless. I am well-nigh despairing. Whither
shall I go? I will not be conquered. I must find, and will find it
soon!"

* * * * * *

'Again we see her. In a grotto, deep in the heart of the earth. She
is seated on a rock, and all is darkness save a faint ray of light that
creeps through a small crevice overhead.

'No one is near. No living creature but herself, and she is still
seeking and waiting for what she has not found. Water is trickling
drop by drop from the moist roof above; the atmosphere is damp and
close, yet little she heeds the discomfort of her surroundings, and
heavy sighs come from her lips. She looks up at last, then wends her
way still further into the innermost recess of the cavern. She stands
beneath a deep vaulted roof, in deeper darkness, but in drier
atmosphere, and here she pauses, a light coming into her sad blue eyes,
and for the first time a smile hovering about her lips. A quiver of
excitement, a thrill of suppressed awe vibrates through her nervously
strung frame. "At last," she murmurs; "if nowhere else, I shall find
it here."

'Her heart throbs violently, and in vain she places her hand upon it to
still its beating. Moments pass in anxious hope, then suddenly she
sinks to the ground in a passion of sobs and bitter weeping.

'"No, no, poor weak fool that I have been," she breaks forth, in
disdainful self-contempt; "never in this life shall I obtain it, for
outward circumstances influence it little. How vainly delud