s is now the third evening," said Ulla: "ah, best gracious lady, it
goes really to my heart--it is not justly right there!"

"What is not justly right, Ulla?"

"That Mamselle Eva goes out to the grave so late, and does not come back
again till it has struck ten, and that she will be so much alone,"
returned Ulla. "Yesterday Mamselle Leonore even cried, and begged of her
not to go, or to allow her to go with her. But Mamselle Eva would not
let her, but said she would not go, and that Mamselle Leonore should go
up-stairs, and leave her alone; but as soon as Mamselle Leonore had left
her she went out for all that, with only a thin kerchief over her head.
And this evening she is gone out also. Ah! it must be a great grief
which consumes her, for she gets paler every day!"

Greatly disturbed by what she had heard, Elise hastened to seek her
husband. She found him deeply engaged over his books and papers, but he
left all the moment he saw the troubled countenance of his wife. She
related to him what she had heard from Ulla, and informed him that it
was her intention to go now immediately to the churchyard.

"I will go with you," said the Judge, "only tell Louise to defer supper
for us till we come back; I fancy nobody will miss us, they are so
occupied by their music."

No sooner said than done. The husband and wife went out together; it was
half-past nine in the middle of May, but the air was cold, and a damp
mist fell.

"Good heavens!" said the Judge softly, "she'll get her death of cold if
she stops in the churchyard so late, and in air like this!"

As they approached the churchyard, they saw that a female form passed
hastily through the gate. It was not Eva, for she sat on the grave of
her brother! she sat there immovably upon the earth, and resembled a
ghost. The churchyard was, with this exception, deserted. The figure
which had entered before them, softly approached the grave, and remained
standing at the distance of a few paces.

"Eva!" said a beseeching mournful voice; it was Leonore. The parents
remained standing behind some thick-leaved fir-trees. On precisely the
same spot had the father stood once before, and listened to a
conversation of a very different kind.

"Eva!" repeated Leonore, with an expression of the most heartfelt
tenderness.

"What do you want with me, Leonore?" asked Eva impatiently, but without
moving. "I have already prayed you to let me alone."

"Ah! I cannot leave you, dear Eva," r