ove and God,"
were the words which might be read upon the grave-stone.

A withered bouquet of stocks had been found by Louise, with the
certificate of Eva's birth and her hymn-book. These were the flowers
which Wilhelm had given her that evening at Roeskelde. Among the dry
leaves there lay a piece of paper, on which she had written,--"Even like
these flowers let the feelings die away in my soul which these flowers
inspire it with!"

And now above her grave the flowers which she had loved sent forth their
fragrance.

It was Sunday; the sun shone warm; the church-goers, old and young,
assembled under the great lime-tree near Eva's grave. They expected
their young preacher, who to-day was to preach for the third time.

The gentlefolks would also certainly be there, they thought, because the
young Baron was come back out of foreign parts, and with him the other
gentleman, who certainly was to have Miss Louise.

"Our new preacher is worth hearing," said one of the peasant women;
"such a young man, who actually preaches the old faith! as gentle and as
meek in conversation as if he were one of ourselves! And in the pulpit,
God help us! it went quite down into my legs the last time about the Day
of Judgment!"

"There is Father!" [Note: The general term applied to the preacher by
the Danish peasants.] exclaimed the crowd, and the heads of old and
young were uncovered. The women courtesied deeply as a young man in
priest-robes went into the church-door. His eyes and lips moved to a
pious smile, the hair was smooth upon his pale forehead.

"Good day, children!" said he.

It was Hans Peter. He had, indeed, had "the best characters," and thus
had received a good living, and now preached effectively about the devil
and all his works.

The singing of the community sounded above the grave where the sun
shone, where the stocks sent forth their fragrance, and where Eva slept:
she whose last wish was to live.

"There is no love i' th' grave below,
No music, warmth, or pleasure."

The earth lay firm and heavy upon her coffin-lid.

During the singing of the second hymn a handsome carriage drove up
before the church-yard. The two friends, who were only just returned to
their home in Denmark, entered the church, together with the mother and
Louise.

Travelling and two years had made Wilhelm appear somewhat older;
there was a shadow of sadness in his otherwise open and life-rejoicing
countenance. Otto looked ha