augh with
the knight, till his aged wife herself could not help smiling with
great good-humor.

Undine had in the mean time got ready, and now entered the room: all
rose to meet her, but remained fixed in perfect admiration--she was so
changed, and yet the same. The priest, with paternal affection beaming
from his countenance, first went up to her; and as he raised his hand
to pronounce a blessing, the beautiful bride sank on her knees before
him with religious awe; she begged his pardon in terms both respectful
and submissive for any foolish things she might have uttered the
evening before, and entreated him with emotion to pray for the welfare
of her soul. She then rose, kissed her foster-parents, and after
thanking them for all the kindness they had shown her, said:

"Oh, I now feel in my inmost heart how much, how infinitely much, you
have done for me, you dear, dear friends of my childhood!"

At first she was wholly unable to tear herself away from their
affectionate caresses; but the moment she saw the good old mother
busy in getting breakfast, she went to the hearth, applied herself to
cooking the food and putting it on the table, and would not suffer her
to take the least share in the work.

She continued in this frame of spirit the whole day: calm, kind,
attentive--half matronly and half girlish. The three who had been
longest acquainted with her expected every instant to see her
capricious spirit break out in some whimsical change or sportive
vagary. But their fears were quite unnecessary. Undine continued as
mild and gentle as an angel. The priest found it all but impossible to
remove his eyes from her; and he often said to the bridegroom:--

"The bounty of Heaven, sir, through me its unworthy instrument,
intrusted to you yesterday an invaluable treasure: cherish it as you
ought, and it will promote your temporal and eternal welfare."

Toward evening Undine was hanging upon the knight's arm with lowly
tenderness, while she drew him gently out before the door, where the
setting sun shone richly over the fresh grass and upon the high
slender boles of the trees. Her emotion was visible; the dew of
sadness and love swam in her eyes, while a tender and fearful secret
seemed to hover upon her lips, but was only made known by hardly
breathed sighs. She led her husband farther and farther onward without
speaking. When he asked her questions, she replied only with looks, in
which, it is true, there appeared to