ion
warmed her heart. She knew also that this was the only one she should
ever write, and that her husband should never again miss her from the
tea-table, and therefore be obliged to drink his tea at the club (but he
should be reconciled sometime with the sinner--the novel); and she
would, moreover, prepare a dinner for the Colonel's widow, which should
compensate for the unlucky one of this day; and--"Would that Ernst would
but come home soon," thought she, "I would endeavour to banish all his
displeasure, and make all right between us."

It was the bathing-day of the children, and the message that the hour of
bathing was come interrupted Elise's solitude. She ordered Brigitta to
commence her preparations, and when she had somewhat composed herself,
and washed away the traces of her tears with rose-water, she herself
went down into the chamber.

"God be praised for water!" thought Elise, at the first view of the
scene which presented itself. The soft glowing young forms in the clear
warm water, the glimmering of the open fire, the splashing and
jubileering of the children in their unspeakable comfort, their innocent
sport one with another in the peaceful little lake of the bath, in which
they had no fear of raising stormy waves; nay, even Brigitta's happy
face, under her white cap, her lively activity, amid the continual
phrases of "best-beloved," "little alabaster arm," "alabaster foot,"
"lily-of-the-valley bosom," and such like, whilst over the
lily-of-the-valley bosom, and the alabaster arm, she spread soap-foam
scarcely less white, or wrapped them in snowy cloths, out of which
nothing but little lively, glowing, merry faces peeped and played with
one another at bo-peep--all this united to present a picture full of
life and pleasure.

Elise, however, could not fully enjoy it; the thought of what had just
occurred, longings for reconciliation with her husband, fear that he
might remain long, that he might return too much displeased for her
easily to make all straight again--these thoughts occupied her mind; yet
still she could not help smiling as Gabriele, who had sunk down into the
bath alone, exclaimed, almost beside herself for fright, "I am drowning!
I am drowning!" In order to re-assure her, her mother stretched out her
white hands to her, and under their protection she laughed and splashed
about like a little fish in water.

A shower of flowers streamed suddenly over both mother and child, and
Gabriele scr