and now he was concealing from her something which moved him deeply.

She turned away sadly, for she could not even comfort him. But then
again Philip sighed from the bottom of his heart, and she could contain
her self no longer. More tenderly than she had ever addressed him
before, she besought her brother to open his heart to her. She would
gladly help him to endure what oppressed him; and she could understand,
for she herself had learned what the joys and sorrows of love were.

She had found the right clew. Philip nodded, and answered gloomily:

"Well, then, listen. It may do me good to speak." And thereupon he
began to tell her what she had already heard from Alexander; and,
covering her tingling cheeks with her hands, she listened with breathless
attention, not missing a word, though the question rose to her mind again
and again whether she should tell him the whole truth, which he as yet
could not know, or whether it would be better to spare his already
burdened soul.

He described his love in glowing colors. Korinna's heart, he said, must
have gone forth to him; for, at their last meeting on the northern shore
of the lake, her hand had rested in his while he helped her out of the
boat; he could still feel the touch of her fingers. Nor had the meeting
been pure accident, for he had since seen and recognized the presence on
earth of her departed soul in her apparently living form. And she, too,
with the subtle senses of a disembodied spirit, must have had a yearning
towards him, for she had perceived all the depth and fervor of his
passion. Alexander had given him this certainty; for when he had seen
Korinna by the lake, her soul had long since abandoned its earthly
tenement. Before that, her mortal part was already beyond his reach; and