with glowing cheeks, read and reread the verse which brought such
cheering consolation from her lover. It seemed like a miracle that they
recalled the words of her dying mother concerning the forge fire which,
in her last moments, she had mentioned in connection with Eva's future.
Here it had formed from rude iron the fairest of flowers. Nothing
sweeter or lovelier, the sister thought, could be made from her darling.
But would the fire also possess the power to lead Eva, as it were, from
heaven to earth, and transform her into an energetic woman, symmetrical
in thought and deed? And what was the necessity? She was there to guide
her and remove every stone from her path.

Ah, if she should renounce the cloister and find a husband like her
Wolff! Again and again she read his greeting and pressed the beloved
sheet to her lips. She would fain have hastened to her mother's corpse
to show it to her. But just at that moment Eva returned. She must
rejoice with her over this beautiful confirmation of her hope, and as,
with flushed cheeks and brow moist with perspiration, she stood before
her, Els tenderly embraced her and, overflowing with gratitude, showed
her her lover's gift and verse, and invited her to share the great
happiness which so brightly illumined the darkness of her grief. Eva,
who was so weary that she could scarcely stand thought, like her sister,
as Els read Wolff's lines aloud, of her mother's last words. But the
forge fire of life must not transform her into a rose; she would become
harder, firmer, and she knew why and for whose sake. Only yesterday, had
she been so exhausted, nothing would have kept her, after a few brief
words to prevent Els's disappointment, from lying down, arranging her
pillows comfortably, and refreshing herself with some cooling drink; but
now she not only succeeded in appearing attentive, but in sympathising
with all her heart in her sister's happiness. How delightful it was,
too, to be able to give something to the person from whom hitherto she