jokes of her father. Then her whole soul lay open and clear
before him; then she disclosed to him the entire treasure of her pure,
full heart, and all the fanciful and dreamy thoughts of her young
virgin soul were perceptible; then he had participated in her joys,
her little sorrows, every feeling which agitated her breast.

And now, why was it all so different?

A deep, painful melancholy took possession of him, and made him
overcome his fear of her decision. He sat down resolutely at her side,
and took her hand.

"Elise," said he, "do you still remember what you said to me three
years ago, as I took leave of you?"

She shook her head and turned her eyes toward him. These eyes were
full of tears, and her countenance was agitated with painful emotion.

Bertram continued: "You then said to me, 'Farewell, and however far
you may travel my heart goes with you, and when you return I will be
to you the same loving, faithful sister that I now am.' These were
your words, Elise; you see that I have preserved them in my memory
more faithfully than you, my sister."

Elise shuddered slightly. Then she said, with a painfully subdued
voice, "You were so long absent, Bertram, and I was only a child when
you left."

"The young woman wishes, then, to recall the words spoken by the
child?"

"No, Bertram, I will always love you as a sister."

Bertram sighed. "I understand you," said he, sadly; "you wish to erect
this sisterly love into an impassable barrier separating me from you,
and to pour this cool and unsubstantial affection like a soothing balm
upon my sufferings. How little do you know of love, Elise; of that
passion which desires every thing, which is satisfied with nothing
less than extreme happiness, or, failing that, extreme wretchedness,
and will accept no pitiful compromise, no miserable substitute!"

Elise looked at him firmly, with beaming eyes. She too felt that the
decisive hour had come, and that she owed the friend of her youth an
open and unreserved explanation.

"You are mistaken, Bertram," said she. "I know this love of which you
speak, and for that very reason, because I know it, I tell you I will
always love you as a sister. As a true sister I bid you welcome."

She offered him her hand; but as she read in his pale face the agony
which tormented his soul, she turned her eyes away and drew her hand
back.

"You are angry with me, Bertram," said she, sobbing.

He pressed his hand convulsively to his