ore effectual
power than fear, and all were soon seated in the carriage.

We will allow them to roll away, and will now pay a little visit to

LEONORE'S CHAMBER.

Leonore sate solitary. She supported her sick head on her hand. She had
impelled herself to answer kindly the leave-taking kiss of her mother
and sisters; she had seen how they sought to repress their joy before
her; and she had particularly remarked a sort of half-concealed roguish
joy in the glance which was exchanged between Eva and her mother, which
had pained her. She had heard their happy voices on the stairs, and then
the driving away of the carriages. Now they were gone; now all was still
and desolate in the house, and large tears traced their way down
Leonore's cheeks. She seemed to herself so forlorn, so uncared for, so
solitary in the world!

At that moment the door was softly opened, a smiling face looked in, and
a light fascinating figure sprang forward through the chamber towards
her, kissed her, laughed, and glanced with roguish and ardent affection
into her astonished face.

"Eva!" exclaimed Leonore, scarcely trusting her eyes; "Eva, are you
here? How! whither came you? Are you not gone with the others?"

"No, as you see," returned Eva, embracing her, laughing, and looking
quite happy; "I am here, and mean to stay here."

"But why? What is the meaning of it?" asked Leonore.

"Because I would much rather remain here with you than go anywhere
else," said Eva. "I have bid Axelholm with all its splendours good day."

"Ah! why have you done so? I would much rather you had not!" said
Leonore.

"See you! I knew that," returned her sister, "and therefore I put on a
travelling dress, like the rest, and took leave of you with them. I
wanted to take you by surprise, you see. You are not angry with me, are
you? You must now be contented with it--you can't get rid of me! Look a
little happy on me, Leonore!"

"I cannot Eva," said Leonore, "because you have robbed yourself of a
great pleasure on my account, and I know that it must have been
difficult for you. I know that I am neither agreeable nor pleasing, and
that you cannot love me, nor yet have pleasure with me, and on that
account I cannot have pleasure in your sacrifice. It becomes you to be
with the joyful and the happy. Ah! that you had but gone with them!"

"Do not talk so, unless you would make me weep," said Eva; "you do not
know how the thought of giving up all these festivities in