n the moonlight.

But the composure she needed for prayer was soon destroyed, for the
image of the knight rose before her again and again, and it seemed as
if her own name, which he had called with such ardent longing, once more
rang in her ears.

Whoever thus raises his voice in appeal to another loves that person.
Heinz Schorlin's love was great and sincere and, instead of heeding the
inner voice that warned her to return to prayer, she cried defiantly, "I
will not!"

She could not yet part from the man for whom her heart throbbed with
such passionate yearning, who was so brave and godly, so ardently
devoted to her.

True, it had been peacefully beautiful to dream herself into the bright
glory of heaven, yet the stormy rapture she had felt while thinking of
him and his love seemed richer and greater. She could not, would not
part from him.

Then she remembered her sister's intention of driving Heinz--Eva already
called the knight by that name in her soliloquy--from her presence, and
the thought that she might perhaps wound him so keenly that knightly
honour would forbid his return alarmed and incensed her.

What right had Els to distrust him? A godly knight played no base game
with the chosen lady of, his heart, and that, yes, that she certainly
was, since she had named her colour to him. Nothing should separate
them. She needed him for her happiness as much as she did light and air.
Hitherto she had longed for bliss in another world, but she was so young
she probably had a long life before her, and what could existence on
earth offer if robbed of the hope of his possession?

The newly awakened part of her nature demanded its rights. It would
never again allow itself to be forced into the old slumber.

If her sister came back and boasted of having driven away the dangerous
animal forever, she would show her that she had a different opinion
of the knight, and would permit no one to interpose between them. But,
while still pondering over this plan, the door of the sick-room was
softly opened and her father beckoned to her to follow him.

Silently leading the way through the dusky corridor, no longer illumined
by the moonlight, he entered his daughter's room before her. The lamp,
still burning there, revealed the agitated face of her sister who,
resting her chin on her hand, sat on the stool beside the spinning
wheel.

Eva's courage, which had blazed up so brightly, instantly fell again.

"Good heavens! Wha