he child is not dead, but sleepeth."--Mark v. 39.

"How?" cried Manna. "Why these words here? They are spoken in Scripture
of that child who was re-awakened on its death-bed, but not of a buried
one."

She sank down upon the grave, and her thoughts grew confused: she lost
all consciousness of the passage of time. At last, composing herself,
she turned back toward the convent. Admitted into the reception-room,
she was still obliged to wait alone; the pictures on the wall seeming
to withdraw into the distance if she looked up at them.

At last came the Superior. Manna, hastening toward her, would have
thrown herself upon her neck; but she stood rigid, winding both ends of
her hempen girdle around the forefingers of her right and left hand, so
that the rope cut into the flesh.

Manna sank down at her feet.

"Rise," said the Superior severely. "We suffer no vehemence here. It is
to be hoped you yet remember this. Have you been in the church?"

"No," said Manna, rising.

It was long ere the Superior spoke. She probably-expected Manna to
acknowledge her transgression; but Manna could not utter a sound. Every
thing that she had experienced, and that was now within her, seemed to
crowd upon her at once.

"I came hither," she began at last, "in order to leave no sorrow in
your heart, Reverend mother, at my ingratitude. Your treatment of me
has been most noble: you have"--

"No praise. Nothing about me. Speak of yourself."

"My memory must not be a grief to you. I came to beseech you"--

"Why do you hesitate so long? Speak out! What do you wish?"

"Nothing save your faith in the honorable struggle through which I have
passed. I could not do otherwise. I am betrothed to Eric Dournay."

"How, to whom? Did I rightly understand you? Is Herr von Pranken dead?
You are--But no. Speak!"

Faithfully and openly did Manna acquaint her with all that had
happened, standing erect, and speaking in a firm voice. When she had
ended, the Superior said,--

"So you have not come to do penance?"

"No."

"For what, then?"

Manna, grasping her brow, said,--

"Have I then not clearly confessed that I do not feel myself culpable?
I came in order to offer you thanks, heartfelt thanks, for the good
which you did me in time of need, and my memory must not be a sorrow to
you. You yourself once told me that the battle which I must fight with
life would be a hard one. I have not sustained it, or rather--only, I
implore you, be not woun