m on high.

CHAPTER VII.

We often experience sadness and hesitancy in carrying out projects
which have been wisely conceived and hopefully determined on. And thus
it proved when the time came to set out for the shepherd's hut.

It was before daybreak. Irma stood at the open hearth in Walpurga's
room, and shivered with the cold.

Although Irma had overcome all longings since her return from her short
visit to the world, a new and deep feeling of homelessness had come
over her, just as if this was the first day of her solitude. She often
looked about her, as if she saw a figure approaching with a light
bundle under its arm--and that figure was herself, but oh! how changed.
She scarcely felt a desire for food or drink; nor did she care to
speak. She lived entirely in and from herself. But, although silent,
she was cheerful and kind toward every one.

The little pitchman was the first to note this change, and he was of
the opinion that a summer spent on the mountain meadows would prove of
great benefit to Irma, for he maintained that she was ill, although she
always seemed well and was ever at work.

If everything had been specially arranged, Walpurga's purpose could not
have been better served. Irma's wishes and the uncle's advice were in
accord. Besides this, there was danger of discovery, on account of the
king's visit to the neighboring village, and whatever danger lay in
this, Walpurga meant to avert from Irma.

The morning found Walpurga gay and cheerful, as if after a hardly won
victory. Her eyes often rested on Irma, who was looking fixedly at the
open hearth-fire.

"You'll see," said she to her, "you'll be quite a different being up
there. I can hear you singing already, and then we'll sing together
again."

She went on humming to herself the air,

Oh! blissful is the tender tie
That binds me, love, to thee.

But Irma did not join in the song.

"I shall support life as long as it supports me," said Irma, as if
speaking to herself, and holding her hands before the fire.

It was not long before the two women, who were thus standing quietly by
the hearth, were called away to the stable outside. Everything was in
readiness. The little pitchman, who was conversant with all such
mysteries, had, on the previous day, arranged everything so that the
cattle might be well and hearty in their new abode. He had brought a
clod of earth an