g fairly drew me here--I thought when I'd once seen him I
should feel better, that I could rest, and so I crept up stairs. I
could, just see his face through the keyhole, but it wouldn't let me go
away again. If you hadn't come, I believe I should have knelt here all
night and been forced to look at him till I died."

"Won't you come in, child?" he said, taking her by the hand. "Don't be
frightened. I'll cut off a lock of his hair for you. Do you want it?"

"No, no!" she exclaimed vehemently. "Not in there, not a step nearer!
I'm so afraid of him, I'm afraid he will open his eyes, and ask--oh!
Herr Edwin, you don't know--let me go--if I should touch a lock of his
hair, I should never be able to leave his side again and I can't help
being a poor stupid thing, who didn't understand him! Oh, God! my heart
is breaking!"

Passionate sobs checked her utterance. But when Edwin put his arm
around her and kindly tried to soothe her, she broke from him and
darted down the stairs like an arrow, while he stood a long time in the
darkness, musing over this strange enigma, ere he again threw himself
on his cold bed.

CHAPTER IV.

On the morning of the third day the funeral took place. Franzelius, who
had undertaken to attend to all the sorrowful details, insisted that
this last duty should be performed at six o'clock. "Perhaps then the
preacher will oversleep himself," said he. Edwin had assented. The
clergyman belonging to their ward, who as professor of theology had met
Edwin at college, came the day after the event to condole with him and
ask for some notes for the funeral address. "You would do me a favor,"
Edwin replied, "if you would merely say what is absolutely necessary,
what your formula prescribes. Eulogies from a person who knew nothing
of the dead, have always been repulsive to me; and besides, as my
brother shared my opinions, many a word would be uttered over his open
grave, against which he would protest if he could hear it." The
clergyman probably thought that the softened soul of a mourner would be
good soil in which to sow the seed of religion, but Edwin cut short all
farther conversation, and his colleague, in by no means the best of
humors, left him.

Franzelius had still another reason for choosing the dark morning hour.
A society of workmen, of which he was a member, wished to sing a hymn
in the churchyard and could not assemble later. But he did not tell his
friend