t seem by the just judgment of
God. Dost thou not believe, Adelheid, that there are certain races which
are deemed accursed, to answer some great and unseen end--races on whom
the holy blessings of Heaven never descend, as they visit the meek and
well-deserving that come of other lines!"

"How can I believe this gross injustice, on the part of a Power that is
wise without bounds, and forgiving to parental love?"

"Thy answer would be well, were this earth the universe, or this state of
being the last. But he whose sight extends beyond the grave, who fashions
justice, and mercy, and goodness, on a scale commensurate with his own
attributes, and not according to our limited means, is not to be estimated
by the narrow rules that we apply to men. No, we must not measure the
ordinances of God by laws that are plausible in our own eyes. Justice is a
relative and not an abstract quality; and, until we understand the
relations of the Deity to ourselves as well as we understand our own
relations to the Deity, we reason in the dark."

"I do not like to hear thee speak thus, Sigismund, and, least of all, with
a brow so clouded, and in a voice so hollow!"

"I will tell my tale more cheerfully, dearest. I have no right to make
thee the partner of my misery; and yet this is the manner I have reasoned,
and thought, and pondered--ay, until my brain has grown heated, and the
power to reason itself has nearly tottered. Ever since that accursed hour,
in which the truth became known to me, and I was made the master of the
fatal secret, have I endeavored to feel and reason thus."

"What truth?--what secret?--If thou lovest me, Sigismund, speak calmly and
without reserve."

The young man gazed at her anxious face in a way to show how deeply he
felt the weight of the blow he was about to give. Then, after a pause he
continued.

"We have lately passed through a terrible scene together, dearest
Adelheid. It was one that may well lessen the distances set between us by
human laws and the tyranny of opinions. Had it been the will of God that
the bark should perish, what a confused crowd of ill-assorted spirits
would have passed together into eternity! We had them, there, of all
degrees of vice, as of nearly all degrees of cultivation, from the subtle
iniquity of the wily Neapolitan juggler to thine own pure soul. There
would have died in the Winkelried the noble of high degree, the reverend
priest, the soldier in the pride of his strength,