tion of the beloved sufferer, while in nursing she failed
only too often in giving the right touch. But she could pray--implore the
aid of her saint very fervently; nay, she was more familiar with her, and
might hope that she would fulfil a heartfelt wish of hers more quickly
than for her sister. It would not do to call Els to the window. She
closed the door gently, returned to her chamber, knelt and implored St.
Clare, with all the fervour of her heart, to grant her mother a good
night. Then she again drew the curtains closely over the window, and went
to call Katterle to help her undress.

But the maid was just entering with fresh water. What was the matter with
her?

Her hand trembled as she braided her young mistress's hair and sometimes,
with a faint sigh, she stopped the movement of the comb.

Her silence could be easily explained; for Eva had often forbidden
Katterle to talk, when she disturbed her meditation. Yet the girl must
have had some special burden on her mind, for when Eva had gone to bed
she could not resolve to leave the room, but remained standing on the
threshold in evident embarrassment.

Eva encouraged her to speak, and Katterle, so confused that she often
hesitated for words and pulled at her ribbons till she was in danger of
tearing them from her white apron, stammered that she did not come on her
own account, but for another person. It was well known in the household
that her betrothed husband, the true and steadfast Walther Biberli,
served a godly knight, her countryman.

"I know it," said Eva with apparent composure, "and your Biberli has
commissioned you to bear me the respectful greeting of Sir Heinz
Schorlin."

The girl looked at her young mistress in surprise. She had been prepared
for a sharp rebuke, and had yielded to her lover's entreaties to under
take this service amid tears, and with great anxiety; for if her act
should be betrayed, she would lose, amid bitter reproaches, the place she
so greatly prized. Yet Biberli's power over her and her faith in him were
so great that she would have followed him into a lion's den; and it had
scarcely seemed a more desirable venture to carry a love-greeting to the
pious maiden who held men in such disfavour, and could burst into
passionate anger as suddenly as her father.

And now?

Eva had expected such a message. It seemed like a miracle to Katterle.

With a sigh of relief, and a hasty thanksgiving to her patron saint, she
at once beg