ed the door of Tabea's cell. But all his knocking brought
not one word of answer, and after a while Brother Jabez came in and led
the poor fellow out, to the great grief of Sister Persida, who in her
heart thought it a pity to spoil a wedding.

The sisters who came to call Tabea to supper that evening also failed
to elicit any response. Late in the night, when she had become calm,
Tabea heard the crowing of a cock, and her heart was deeply touched at
the thought that Friedsam, the revered Friedsam, now more than ever the
beloved of her soul, was at that moment going to prayer for the
disciple who had broken her vow. She rose from her bench and fell on
her knees; and if she mistook the mingled feelings of penitence and
human passion for pure devotion, she made the commonest mistake of
enthusiastic spirits.

But she was not left long to doubt that Friedsam had remembered her; by
the time that the cock had crowed the second time the sound of the
monastery bell, the rope of which hung just by Friedsam's bedside,
broke abruptly into the deathlike stillness, calling the monks and nuns
of Ephrata to a solemn night service. Tabea felt sure that Friedsam had
called the meeting at this moment by way of assuring her of his
remembrance.

Daniel Scheible, who had wandered back to the neighborhood in the
aimlessness of disappointment, heard the monastery bell waking all the
reverberations of the forest, and saw light after light twinkle from
the little square windows of Bethany and Sharon; then he saw the monks
and nuns come out of Bethany and Sharon, each carrying a small paper
lantern as they hastened to Zion. The bell ceased, and Zion, which
before had been wrapped in night, shone with light from every window,
and there rose upon the silence the voices of the choruses chanting an
antiphonal song; and disconsolate Scheible cursed Friedsam and Ephrata,
and went off into outer darkness.

When the first strophe had been sung below, and the sweet-voiced
sisters caught up the antistrophe, Brother Friedsam, sitting in the
midst, listened with painful attention, vainly trying to detect the
sound of Tabea's voice. But when the second strophe had been sung, and
the sisters began their second response, a thrill of excitement went
through all as the long-silent voice of Sister Tabea rose above the
rest with even more than its old fervor and expression.

And the next Saturday--for the seventh day was the Ephrata
Sabbath--Tabea took a new