the lowest depths of the soul, it is still hard to remain undisturbed
in this holy solitude. Yes, many forget it after they find it and
scarcely know the way which leads back to it.

Weeks had flown, and not a syllable had reached me from her. "Perhaps
she is dead and lies in quiet rest," was another song forever on my
tongue, and always returning as often as I drove it from me. It was
not impossible, for the Hofrath had told me she suffered with heart
troubles, and that he expected to find her no more among the living
every morning he visited her. Could I ever forgive myself if she had
left this world and I had not taken farewell of her, nor told her at
the last moment how I loved her? Must I not follow until I found her
again in another life, and heard from her that she loved me and that I
was forgiven? How mankind defers from day to day the best it can do,
and the most beautiful things it can enjoy, without thinking that every
day may be the last one, and that lost time is lost eternity! Then all
the words of the Hofrath, the last time I saw him, recurred to me, and
I felt that I had only resolved to make my sudden journey to show my
strength to him, and that it would have been a still more difficult
task to have confessed my weakness and remained. It was clear to me
that it was my simple duty to return to her immediately and to bear
everything which Heaven ordained. But as soon as I had laid the plan
for my return journey, I suddenly remembered the words of the Hofrath:
"As soon as possible she must go away and be taken into the country."
She had herself told me that she spent the most of her time, in summer,
at her castle. Perhaps she was there, in my immediate vicinity; in one
day I could be with her. Thinking was doing; at daybreak I was off,
and at evening I stood at the gate of the castle.

The night was clear and bright. The mountain peaks glistened in the