of
festivity, I always felt very melancholy among the happy cake-eating
crowd. And in our castle park, which is almost as ancient and venerable
as this, and has a great many places where it's not safe to go, I've
wandered about half a day like a little deer, and been perfectly at
home. Do you see now that I'm nothing out of my fine clothes, that it's
from no coquetry that I prefer to wear velvet rather than calico? Here,
for instance, even beside you, I feel too poor and shabby for these
royal avenues. You smile. Say what you please, it may be vain and
foolish and brainless, but it's natural to me, and I can't help it, I
shall carry it with me to the grave."

Meantime they had reached the mausoleum of Frederick William III. and
his beautiful queen. The invalid soldier who guarded it was asleep on a
bench, and when wakened seemed greatly surprised to see visitors so
early, but Edwin gave him a large fee, and he opened the silent hall of
death without objecting. Edwin did not enter it for the first time; but
the magical solemnity of the dusky room had never moved him so deeply,
as on previous visits he had been admitted with a crowd of strangers.
Now the light fell through the blue dome upon the silent marble figures
and the young fresh girl at his side, who could not resist the spell of
the place, and mutely, with a strangely eager expression, as if
expecting some solemn event to happen, gazed for a long time at the
glorified image of the royal lady. Edwin at last approached her, and in
a whisper asked if she were ready to go. She did not hear him and
remained spell bound by the fascination of the place, until the door
keeper rattled his keys and reminded them it was time to leave. Then,
as if longing for some hand to lead her back to life out of the regions
of the dead, she took Edwin's arm and even in the sunlight that shone
upon the park walked beside him a longtime in silence, absorbed in her
own thoughts. He too kept silence, though his heart was burning. Never
had she seemed so lovable, so far above all other women whom he had
even known, as during her quiet reverie in the blue soft twilight. He
had to use the utmost self control to speak of any thing but his
passion.

"I'm really grateful to you," he began, "for being so deeply affected
by that solemn spot. Scarcely any other place hallowed by art and
association, has ever so moved me. Surely the fate of those two human
beings has its influence too in the silenc