ead of heeding the
inner voice that warned her to return to prayer, she cried defiantly, "I
will not!"

She could not yet part from the man for whom her heart throbbed with such
passionate yearning, who was so brave and godly, so ardently devoted to
her.

True, it had been peacefully beautiful to dream herself into the bright
glory of heaven, yet the stormy rapture she had felt while thinking of
him and his love seemed richer and greater. She could not, would not part
from him.

Then she remembered her sister's intention of driving Heinz--Eva already
called the knight by that name in her soliloquy--from her presence, and
the thought that she might perhaps wound him so keenly that knightly
honour would forbid his return alarmed and incensed her.

What right had Els to distrust him? A godly knight played no base game
with the chosen lady of, his heart, and that, yes, that she certainly
was, since she had named her colour to him. Nothing should separate them.
She needed him for her happiness as much as she did light and air.
Hitherto she had longed for bliss in another world, but she was so young
she probably had a long life before her, and what could existence on
earth offer if robbed of the hope of his possession?

The newly awakened part of her nature demanded its rights. It would never
again allow itself to be forced into the old slumber.

If her sister came back and boasted of having driven away the dangerous
animal forever, she would show her that she had a different opinion of
the knight, and would permit no one to interpose between them. But, while
still pondering over this plan, the door of the sick-room was softly
opened and her father beckoned to her to follow him.

Silently leading the way through the dusky corridor, no longer illumined
by the moonlight, he entered his daughter's room before her. The lamp,
still burning there, revealed the agitated face of her sister who,
resting her chin on her hand, sat on the stool beside the spinning wheel.

Eva's courage, which had blazed up so brightly, instantly fell again.

"Good heavens! What has happened?" she cried in terror; but her father
answered in a hollow tone:

"For the sake of your noble sister, to whom I pledged my word, I will
force myself to remain calm. But look at her! Her poor heart must be like
a graveyard, for she was doomed to bury what she held dearest. And who,"
he continued furiously, so carried away by grief and indignation as to be
u