ed, "you repelled the calumny with proper
contempt, and left her house immediately. That was the reason, I
suppose, of your arriving here so late, with the intention of passing
the night under our roof."

"I honestly avow, I had no such thought. You know I was not quite
convalescent, so excuse my weakness. I really did not believe her at
first; but when she brought your nurse, old Rosel, to substantiate what
she said, and who moreover lamented that I had been deceived, I----oh,
do not turn away from me, Bertha; do not be angry! I threw myself on my
horse, and rode direct to the castle, for the purpose of exchanging a
word with him who dared to love you."

"And could you believe that?" she answered, with tears starting into
her eyes: "I cannot think that Rosel said any thing of the kind,
though she is fond of a gossip; I am not angry with the hostess, for
she does not know better; but that you, you Albert, should give credit
to so foul a falsehood, and think it necessary to convince yourself,
that----" The tears of the faithful girl flowed in abundance; and the
feeling of mortification choked her further utterance.

Her lover was overcome by the sense of his egregious folly; but he also
felt the consolation, that though he was to be blamed his suspicions
arose purely out of the intensity of his love. "Pardon me this once,
dearest; let me assure you, that the jealousy which tormented me,
unfounded as it was, would never have been inflamed into reality, did
not my whole existence depend upon you."

"He who really loves can never harbour a spark of jealousy, founded
upon such reports," said Bertha, in displeasure; "you hinted something
of the same kind once before in Ulm, which you know hurt me very
deeply. But if you had known me, and loved me with the same unalterable
attachment that I love you, you never could have entertained such
thoughts."

"No, truly, but you must not be unjust," he replied, and took her hand;
"how can you reproach me with not returning your love with the same
ardent sincerity? Was it impossible that one more worthy than Albert
von Sturmfeder might appear, and supplant him in your heart by some
infernal enchantment? Every thing is possible in this world."

"Possible!" interrupted Bertha; and a certain pride, which Albert had
often remarked in the daughter of Lichtenstein, appeared now to animate
her; "possible? if you ever could have entertained such an opinion of
me,--I repeat it, Albert von