ed
upon their brows: the old fisherman even began to laugh with the
knight till his aged wife herself could not help smiling with great
good-humour.

Undine had in the meantime got ready, and now entered the room; all
rose to meet her, but remained fixed in perfect admiration--she was so
changed, and yet the same. The priest, with paternal affection beaming
from his countenance, first went up to her; and as he raised his hand to
pronounce a blessing, the beautiful bride sank on her knees before him
with religious awe; she begged his pardon in terms both respectful and
submissive for any foolish things she might have uttered the evening
before, and entreated him with emotion to pray for the welfare of her
soul. She then rose, kissed her foster-parents, and, after thanking them
for all the kindness they had shown her, said:

"Oh, I now feel in my inmost heart how much, how infinitely much, you
have done for me, you dear, dear friends of my childhood!"

At first she was wholly unable to tear herself away from their
affectionate caresses; but the moment she saw the good old mother busy
in getting breakfast, she went to the hearth, applied herself to cooking
the food and putting it on the table, and would not suffer her to take
the least share in the work.

She continued in this frame of spirit the whole day: calm, kind
attentive--half matronly, and half girlish. The three who had been
longest acquainted with her expected every instant to see her capricious
spirit break out in some whimsical change or sportive vagary. But their
fears were quite unnecessary. Undine continued as mild and gentle as an
angel. The priest found it all but impossible to remove his eyes from
her; and he often said to the bridegroom:

"The bounty of Heaven, sir, through me its unworthy instrument,
entrusted to you yesterday an invaluable treasure; cherish it as you
ought, and it will promote your temporal and eternal welfare."

Toward evening Undine was hanging upon the knight's arm with lowly
tenderness, while she drew him gently out before the door, where the
setting sun shone richly over the fresh grass, and upon the high,
slender boles of the trees. Her emotion was visible: the dew of sadness
and love swam in her eyes, while a tender and fearful secret seemed to
hover upon her lips, but was only made known by hardly-breathed sighs.
She led her husband farther and farther onward without speaking. When he
asked her questions, she replied onl