girl tottered more than before, and, in the terror of a
guilty conscience, lost her balance and fell into the water. Her brother
drifted helplessly into the bay. "Save the child!" screamed Lenore.
Bernhard ran into the lake forgetting that he could not swim, waded in a
few steps, and then stood up to the breast in mud and water. He
stretched out his arms to the spot where the child had sunk, but could
not reach it. Meanwhile Lenore had sprung, quick as lightning, behind a
bush. After a few seconds she returned and ran to a projecting bank.

Bernhard looked with rapture and terror at her tall figure. She still
wore her fantastic coronal, her light garments floated round her, her
eyes were fixed upon the spot where the child would reappear. Raising
her arms above her head, she leaped in and swam toward it, seized its
frock, struck out with her free arm, and soon reached the boat. Exerting
all her strength, she lifted the child in, and then drew the boat to
land. Bernhard, who, pale as death, had stood watching her efforts,
fought his way back to the land, gave her his hand, and drew in the
boat. Lenore carried the unconscious child. Bernhard lifted out the boy,
and both hurried to the gardener's house, while the little lad ran
screaming behind them. Lenore's soaked garments clung closely to her
beautiful form, and every movement of her fair limbs was seen almost
unveiled by her companion. She did not heed it. Bernhard went with her
into the room, but she hastily sent him out again; while, with the help
of the gardener's wife, she undressed, and sought by friction and other
means to restore the child to life. Meanwhile Bernhard stood without,
his teeth chattering with cold, but in a state of excitement which made
his eyes glow like fire. "Is the child alive?" he called through the
door.

"She is," answered Lenore from within.

"Thank God!" cried Bernhard; but his thoughts rose no higher than the
fair being within. Long he stood there shuddering and dreaming, till at
length a tall figure in woolen garments came out of the door. It was
Lenore in the clothes of the gardener's wife, still agitated by all she
had gone through, but with a happy smile on her lips. Bernhard, beside
himself, kissed her hand more than once.

"You look very well," said Lenore, cheerfully; "but you will catch
cold."

He stood before her, wet and dripping, covered with weeds and mud. "I do
not feel cold," cried he, but his limbs shook.

"Go in