ible composure. Drop by drop did she let the poison of these
words of love, directed to another, fall into her soul. When she had
finished reading it, she repeated to herself the last cruel words,
the warm protestations, with which Feodor assured his bride of his
unalterable love and fidelity, with which he swore to her that he
looked upon his love to her not only as a happiness, but as a sacred
obligation; that he owed her not only his heart but his honor. Then
long and carefully she considered the signature of his name, and
folding up the paper, she handed it back, with a slight inclination to
the countess.

"Oh, my God! I have loved him beyond bounds," muttered she, low; and
then, unable to restrain her tears, she put her hands to her face and
wept aloud.

"Poor, unhappy girl!" exclaimed the countess, laying her arm tenderly
around her neck.

Elise drew back violently and regarded her almost in anger. "Do not
commiserate me. I will not be pitied by you! I--"

She suddenly stopped, and an electric shock passed through her whole
frame. She heard the concerted signal; and the tones of the post-horn,
which slowly and heavily sounded the notes of the sad Russian melody,
grated on her ear like a terrible message of misfortune.

The two women stood for a moment silent and motionless. They both
listened to the dirge of their love and their happiness, and this
simple, hearty song sounded to them horrible and awful in the
boundless desolation of their hearts. At last the song ceased, and a
voice, too well known and loved, cried, "Elise! Elise!"

The maiden started up, shuddering and terrified. "His voice frightens
me."

But still she seemed not to be able to withstand the call; for she
approached the window, and looked down hesitatingly.

The countess observed her jealously, and a fearful thought suddenly
entered her mind. How, if this young girl loved him as much as she
did? If she were ready to forgive him every thing, to blot out the
whole past with the hand of love and commence a new existence with
him? If she felt no compassion for Feodor's forsaken bride, and were
willing to trample triumphantly on her broken heart at the call of her
lover, and follow him to the altar? Her whole soul writhed in pain,
"Follow his call," cried she, with a derisive smile. "Leave your
father, whom you have betrayed, for the sake of a traitor! You have
vowed to love him. Go and keep your vow."

Outside Feodor's voice called Elise'