put a
wondrous, secret word into his mouth, and it rang through his whole
being. He was about to repeat it, when his grandfather called, and he
awoke. He would have given his life to remember that word.

CHAPTER VII.

Klingsohr stood before his bed and kindly bade him good morning. He was
in high spirits, and fell upon Klingsohr's neck. "That is not meant for
you," cried Swaning. Henry smiled, and hid his blushes on his mother's
cheeks.

"Would you like to go with me," said Klingsohr, "and breakfast on a
beautiful eminence just before the city? The fine morning would refresh
you. Dress yourself. Matilda is already waiting for us."

Henry with a thousand joyful feelings thanked him for his welcome
invitation. In a moment he was ready, and kissed Klingsohr's hand with
much fervor. They went to Matilda, who looked wonderfully lovely in her
simple morning dress, and who greeted him kindly. She had already
packed her breakfast into a little basket which she hung upon one arm,
and without ceremony gave the other to Henry. Klingsohr followed them,
and thus they passed through the city, already full of animation, to a
little hill by the river, where a wide and full prospect opened between
some lofty trees.

"Though I have often," said Henry, "delighted in the unfolding of
varied nature in the peaceful neighborhood of her manifold possessions;
yet never has such a creative and pure serenity filled me, as today.
Those distant points seem so near to me, and the rich landscape is like
an inward fantasy. How changeable is nature, however unchangeable
appears its surface! How different is it when an angel, a spirit of
power is at our side, than when a person in distress utters his
complaints before us, or a farmer tells us how unfortunate the weather
is for him, or how much he needs some rainy days for his crops. To you,
dearest master, do I owe this bliss; yes, this bliss,--for there is no
other word that can more truly express my heart's condition. Joy,
desire, transport, are merely the members of that bliss which inspires
them with a higher life. He pressed Matilda's hand to his heart, and
his ardent gaze sank deep into her mild and susceptible eyes.

"Nature," replied Klingsohr, "is for our mind, what a body is for
light. It reflects it, separates it into its proper colors, kindles a
light on its surface or within it, when it equals its opacity: when it
is superior, it rays forth in or