ly from among the
dead, and signed to her to follow them. She seemed to hear them saying,
"Revenge our death, our brother is faint-hearted!"

At this thought, she raised herself upon her couch.

"He is a coward," murmured she. "I saw him turn pale and tremble, and
I felt as if a sword had entered my heart and destroyed all my love for
him. Yes, he is a coward, and instead of rejoicing at the thought of a
battle, he trembles."

She covered her face with her hands, as if to hide from the night the
burning blush of shame that mounted to her brow. Thus she sat for hours
motionless, as if listening to the voices whispering to her from within,
until the first gleam of morning, the first ray of sun entered the open
window to arouse her from her waking dreams.

She sprang from her bed, and dressed herself with trembling eagerness.
The sun had arisen, and Charles Henry was no doubt already in the woods,
at the place she had appointed to meet him yesterday morning. When
bidding him good-by, she had whispered to him to meet her there in the
morning at sunrise; she did not then know why she had appointed this
meeting. She well knew it was not the longing to pass an undisturbed
hour with her lover that had actuated her. Anna had no such wish; her
heart was too pure, her love too cold. She had only felt that she would
have something to say to him; she knew not what herself.

But now she well knew what she had to say; it was all clear, and
therefore she was happy and cheerful. It seemed to her as if her soul
had taken flight, and as if there was a lark within her singing songs of
joy, and with these feelings she hastened down the road into the woods.

At the appointed place stood Charles Henry, and as his betrothed
approached him, so proud, so smiling, sparkling with beauty and youth,
it appeared to him that he had never seen her so exquisitely beautiful;
to her, as he advanced smilingly to meet her, he had never seemed so
small, so devoid of attractions.

When they met, they looked at each other in amazement--there was a
change in both.

"Anna Sophia," said Charles Henry at last, sadly, "you have something
against me."

"Yes," said she, "I have something against you, otherwise I would not
have appointed this meeting here, where we can be heard by no one. Were
this that I have to tell you something good, something pleasant, all
the world might stand by and hear it, but as it is something painful, it
must be heard by you alo