as if an invisible hand were already out-stretched to take her from him.

To-day her dear, delicate little face was not pale, but glowed crimson
after the long walk through the frosty, winter air. She was glad to have
Ulrich clasp her so firmly, so she pressed her cheek closer to his,
loosened her fingers from his neck, caressingly stroked his face with her
cold hand, and murmured:

"You are kind, Ulrich, and I love you!"

It sounded so tender and loving, that Ulrich's heart melted, for no one
had spoken to him so since his mother went away.

He felt strong and joyous, Ruth did not seem at all heavy, and when she
again clasped her hands around his neck, he said: "I should like to carry
you so always."

Ruth only nodded, as if the wish pleased her, but he continued:

"In the monastery I had no one, who was very kind to me, for even Lips,
well, he was a count--everybody is kind to you. You don't know what it
is, to be all alone, and have to struggle against every one. When I was
in the monastery, I often wished that I was lying under the earth; now I
don't want to die, and we will stay with you--father told me so--and
everything will be just as it was, and I shall learn no more Latin, but
become a painter, or smith-artificer, or anything else, for aught I care,
if I'm only not obliged to leave you again."

He felt Ruth raise her little head, and press her soft lips on his
forehead just over his eyes; then he lowered the arms in which she