ng convent; and at intervals also Heinz Schorlin, as
he knelt before her and raised his clasped hands with passionate
entreaty.

But she repelled every thought of him as a sin, and even repressed the
impulse to look out into the street to seek him. Her sole duty now was to
pray to her patron saint and the Mother of God in behalf of her sister,
whom she had hurled into misfortune, and her poor heart bleeding from
such deep wounds; but the consolation which usually followed the mere
uplifting of her soul in prayer did not come, and it could not be
otherwise, for amid her continual looking into her own heart and
listening to what went on around her no real devotion was possible.

Although she constantly made fresh efforts to collect her thoughts, and
continued to kneel with clasped hands before the prie dieu, not a
hoof-beat, not a single loud voice, escaped her ear. Even the alternate
deepening and paling of the reflection of the fire, which streamed
through the window, attracted her attention, and the ringing of bells and
braying of trumpets, which still continued, maintained the agitation in
her soul.

Yet prayer was the sole atonement she could make for the wrong she had
done her sister; so she did not cease her endeavours to plead for her to
the Great Helper above, but her efforts were futile. Yet even when she
heard voices close by the house, among which she distinguished Countess
Cordula's and--if she was not mistaken--her father's, she resisted the
impulse to rise from her knees.

At last the vain struggle was ended by an interruption from without.
After unusually loud voices exclaiming and questioning had reached her
from the entry, the door of her chamber suddenly opened and old Martsche
looked in. The housekeeper was seeking something; but when she found the
devout child on her knees she did not wish to disturb her, and contented
herself with the evidence of her eyes. But Eva stopped her, and learned
that she was searching for Katterle, who could neither be found in her
room, or anywhere else. Herr Ortlieb had brought Countess von Montfort
home severely burned, and there were all sorts of things for the maid to
do.

Eva clung shuddering to the back of the prie dieu, for the certainty that
the unfortunate girl had really fled was like strewing salt on her
wounds.

When Martsche left her and Els entered, her excitement had risen to such
a pitch that she flung herself before her, as if frantic and, clinging