ands, and could with difficulty summon courage to
remove them. When he did so, he perceived the fog receding by degrees
from the confines of the moor, and the graceful form of Auriola
standing before him at a little distance. As at their first meeting,
her countenance was averted. She waved the earthen pitcher as was her
wont, and bathed the ground on which she went with flashes of the
brilliant water.

"'Auriola!' cried Bolko, in a voice that carried the tenderness of
love, the sorrow of repentance, to the ear of the listener--'gentle
Auriola!' She turned her face towards the imploring youth, placed the
pitcher at her side, and beckoned him to approach.

"'My father was right!' said the Moor Maiden. 'No Gottmar but is
fickle and inconstant. Well it is for thee, youth, that thou art here
of thy own free-will, and didst not tarry for my summons. Thou hast
kept thy promise badly, and thou wilt keep it so again, if I give thee
no monitor to aid thee. Take this, and carry it, henceforward, in thy
bosom; it will protect thee from harm, and keep thee faithful in
_spirit_, albeit in heart thou art already estranged from me.'

"With these words, the enchantress placed upon the neck of Bolko a
chain braided of her own golden hair, to which was attached a small
box wrought of the shards of the Peacock's eye and Purple-bird. In the
tiny case, trembling with its ever-changing light, was one pearly drop
from the spring.

"'Lose or give away this jewel,' proceeded Auriola--'this jewel, which
is a portion of my heart, and thy ruin and the destruction of thy
house is certain. Love, or at least its symbol, can and must avert the
curse of my father!'

"Bolko looked into the earnest and marvellously bright eyes of
Auriola, as she pronounced his doom. His heart belonged once more to
the Maiden of the Moor, and his gaze made known his passion. She
touched his forehead with her transparent fingers, poured the last
drops of water into the hollow of her hand, and in her usual manner
blew the little curling waves into the misty air. A multitude of
images arose, but in scarcely finished outline. The moist atmosphere
seemed to hinder their accomplishment.

"'Now, farewell!' said Auriola. 'Thou hast beheld. Thy life is
troubled, as are the feelings which sway thy heart. Love truly and
wholly, as aforetime thou lovedst me, and the mirror of thought will
again display its clear bright pictures.

"Auriola took the pitcher, and her bare feet,