t angry at the mountains, whose autumn glory, as she
believed, endeared the world still more to him, and estranged him more
from her.

At last the vicar's wife was struck by her strange ways. She would
occasionally consult her husband about the child, who was as dear to
both as if she had been their own. Her obstinate dejection was
attributed by both to the disappointment of her hopes of sight; and yet
the young girl felt no pain in losing that which had only been promised
to her, or depicted to her fancy--it was all in the loss of what she
had already known; of what had been her own.

On the second evening of their journey they halted at a solitary inn,
celebrated from its situation close to a waterfall. Their wanderings
had been long, and the women were very weary. As soon as they reached
the house, the vicar took in his wife before going on farther to the
cleft, from whence they already heard the roaring of the water. Marlene
was quite exhausted, yet she would persist in following Clement, who
felt no want of rest. They climbed the remaining steps, and louder and
nearer sounded the tumult of the waters. Midway up the narrow path
Marlene's remaining strength gave way. "Let me sit down here," she
said, "while you go on, and fetch me when you have looked long enough."
He offered to lead her home before going farther, but she was already
seated, so he left her and went on, following the sound; touched at
once, and charmed with the solitude and majesty of the spot.

Seated upon a stone, the young girl began to long for his return. "He
will never come!" she thought. A chill crept over her, and the dull
distant thunder of the falls gave her a shudder.

"Why does he not come?" she said; "he will have forgotten me in his
delight, as he always does. If I could only find the way back to the
house that I might get warm again!" And so she sat and listened to
every distant sound. Now she thought she heard him calling to her;
trembling, she rose--what was she to do? Involuntarily she tried a
step, but her foot slipped, and she staggered and fell. Fortunately the
stones on the path were all overgrown with moss. Still the fall
terrified her, and losing all self-command, she screamed for help; but
her voice was unable to reach across the chasm to Clement, who was
standing on the edge, in the very midst of the uproar, and the house
was too far off. A sharp pain cut to her heart, as she lay among the
stones, helpless and deserted. T